My Christmas

What did I do this Christmas? Well I'm glad you asked. This Christmas I :

1. Singlehandedly ate half a box of chocolates.

2. Let my eldest daughters talk me into shopping on Boxing Day. Yikes!

3. Met new people.

4. Realized I want to stuff my life full of family and good friends.

5. Bought a pair of cool jeans for less than $20.(The upside of being talked into shopping.)

6. Laughed until it hurt.

7. Had to listen to Dad tell the story about me as a kid and my McDonald's toys for the twentieth time.

8. Acknowledged that my baby sister could absolutely kick a man's ass and not even break a nail.

9. Was probably the oldest person at a social, didn't care, couldn't wait to get home and have a cigarette and watch McGuyver. (jokes)

10. Went to sleep for the first time since Deklan's death without crying.

11. Ate the same Christmas feast we have every year and thoroughly enjoyed every bite.

12. Watched the kids all get along and have a great time with their cousins.

13. Played Rock Band (not very well) with the kids for the first time in a year.

14. Shovelled snow. A lot of snow.

15. Got the best present, a back scratch from the Tiny Maniac, the best back scratcher in the world. And chore coupons. Mostly I was delighted that they realized Christmas is not about 'stuff '.

And...

16. By the grace of God had the best Christmas yet, even though it should have been the worst.

Happy Birthday Jesus!

"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord."
— Luke 2:11 (NIV)

Is there anything more sad...

Than a broken heart at Christmas?

There is no part of me right now that could even fathom being in a relationship again. Giving my heart to someone else after having it absolutely ripped out first by the death of my darling boy, and then again by having someone I loved and relied on bailing on me, seems like an impossibility. But it would appear that is not the case when it comes to the other half of this newly departed relationship. It seems that The LumberGuy is already working on something else.

I never would have known, as I have had sick little makers in the house for the past few weeks and last night my poor little Peeper had to be taken to the city to see a doctor, but again *someone* must have been looking out for me. Somehow, and it seems like such a long shot, but he happened to accidentally send a text message meant for said new interest to Mr. Maker. How in the world? Anyway Mr. Maker forwarded it to me and when I asked The LumberGuy about it at first he lied, but then told me the truth.

And here is the really amazing part. I was not angry! Not in the least. I was upset that when I had told him our little dolly had to be taken to the doc he chose to go curling because that was his plan and he told me he was too drunk to keep the kids and wasn't interested in making the hour and a half drive on the snowy winter roads with me. I was upset because being a parent is 24/7, not just when its convenient or there is nothing else to do. But about the fact that he stayed and curled and drank some more, and sent text messages to another girl at 11pm I was not. Mostly I feel sad...for him. Is this how he is trying to heal his broken heart?

Being on my own right now is hard. Really hard. But it is making me so very strong. I am here for the sick little makers. I am feeling all the feelings without dulling them with alcohol. I have been blessed with the clarity to see my failed relationship for what it is. And when I feel sad I seem to get yet another reminder that while extremely hard, it really is for the best.

Tonight, instead of being upset that The Lumberguy's family didn't invite the kids or I over to exchange presents and when he came to give them to the kids could not get out of here fast enough to go to the party at this 'alleged' interest's house, I am fine. Happy to be here baking banana bread and cleaning up wrapping paper. Usually the Scorpio in me would be furious, but I can honestly say that is not the case.

I am blessed. (See photo below.Lol.)

MERRY CHRISTMAS

From our home to yours...

Today we had to go into the city for The Tiny Maniac to see the eye doctor. I attempted to Christmas shop (not my favorite thing at the best of times) with two kids in tow. I did get 2 out of 5 presents though. I had the best luck! I went to Micheal's and spent about $120 on one present and some little odds and ends and storage boxes. Everything was on sale so I figured I already got a deal. Then, and I'm not sure why, but the cashier swiped a 20% off coupon. Nice! Then I went to the Bulk Barn for the first time and wow it was like a hippie's paradise in there. I got my loose leaf earl grey tea (yum) and some organic spelt flour and sugar, sea salt, currants, tea biscuit mix and some jelly beans.

When we arrived early for our appointment we took a walk around the mall and much to my delight there was an indoor market set up. I bought red pepper jelly, pickled carrots, and some homemade granola bars for the girl' afternoon snack.

Ok, I realize not everybody is as huge a loser as I am. But I am thoroughly satisfied with my haul today. Today was the first day I actually felt a little bit like my old self, interested in the things I used to be interested in. Peeper was pretty happy about the tea too!

What doesn't kill us...

Will make us stronger? Really? These days I feel like what hasn't killed me has made me bitchier. Lol. No matter how bitchy I am though I have decided that is still no reason for the person who is supposed to be there for me no matter what to not be. He wants to drown his sorrow in a bottle of beer, and has been. Pretty much every night since we got home after Deklan's death. I understand different ways of coping, and that is his, but it is just not acceptable to me. He also told me looking at me reminds him that Deklan is not here. Yes, I am Deklan's mom, but I'm not just his mom. I was supposed to be the one he loved enough to create life with in the first place. But I guess that's not the case.

For the first year and a half of our relationship I felt like I was filling a position. Most of his friends were married with kids, and here I was a single mom with 4 and one on the way. It was an easy way to get what everyone else had. I was always here waiting for him when he got back from whatever it was that he was doing, that he never included me in. We went through a really hard time, and I really had thought he'd changed. Things were so nice between us and I felt like it was really different. I forgave everything that had happened and we were in such a good place we made the decision to have a child together. I don't regret that decision one bit.

We did right by Deklan for the 4 months and 12 days he was here with us and that is all that really matters now. It just hurts me because The Lumberguy has done a complete 360 and is back to the irresponsible alcoholic he was before we started dating. I know those are strong words, but I had to call him to come because one of the kids was really sick. It was 6pm and he was already 2 sheets to the wind. I've called him, really needing to talk and he has said, this is where I want to be, out with friends, having a good time maybe it won't always be, but right now it is. What the heck is that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to just go through losing OUR son all on my own and just be right here waiting to take you back when YOU decide its time? No thank you! I feel like it is GLARINGLY obvious that we are not supposed to be together. This I feel with all of me. It doesn't make it any easier though. It still hurts to have lost him, especially since I have seen what a great guy he really can be.

I read through my old blog posts from when he and I had all our issues and I see that I could have walked away then and saved myself a whole lot of heartache. But everything happens for a reason they say and even though I have to learn to live without him once again I can't say working things out with him was a mistake. Because from that love we had came our wonderful boy.

Don't worry about tomorrow...

God is already there.

One of the sweetest little things sent to me over the past three weeks was definitely a business card sized verse from my dear Sunday school teacher. I remember just loving this woman as a child. I read it many times a day and it reminds me that what I am going through right now does not define what the rest of my life is going to look like. Thank you Mrs. Taylor.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

My tears smell like him!

No sooner did I write it than the smell dissipitated. I've been sitting here crying the ugly cry. You know the type of bawling that takes your whole body. I call it the ugly crying. I hate to cry. When the doctor told me that the team had come to the decision to take Deklan off life support he said, you'll go through every emotion. Not here, not in this place was my reply. Inside I thought to myself you bastard you are not God, this is not your decision to make. Then he threw in the 'your baby is suffering' statement that thoroghly made me feel like crap. I didn't want to give him the satifaction of seeing my cry. (I've said before I'm a stubborn bitch.) Crying has never really been my thing, especially in public. Except in church. For some reason I cannot hold back emotion when I'm within those walls. When my Grandfather, this man who was like a father to me and I respected immensely died I didn't shed a tear until his funeral. I then bawled like a baby for the entire service.

But when I held my son as he took his last breaths and the life slipped out of his body I could not hold back the deep sobs. I held him so close to me and cryed and cryed and cryed. I felt like I should have been comforting him as he passed, telling him he was going to a better place, that it was ok. At that point the emotional pain I felt was almost physical. I felt that I would surely die right along with him.

So as of yet I haven't cried in public since coming home. Tonight at HannaBanana's Christmas concert I felt that lump in my throat though. I had the realization that I would never see my sweet little Deklan in a school play and it broke my heart. Thank God for my sweet HannaBanana though. And the little Tinymaniac to my left and Peeper on my lap and PoopyPants across the aisle too cool to sit with the girls. I always knew they were precious, but what a miracle the birth of a healthy baby is, the life of a child is. Its almost impossible to feel the enormity of it until you've experienced the opposite.

But I now cry regularly at home. Its almost on a schedule. Every night after the kids are in bed. I sit in my living room or at my computer and listen to his cd of beautiful lullabies and bawl. Its the only way I'm able to go out without being a blubbering mess. Crying it out at night gives me strength for the next day.

P.S. The Putumayo Dreamland world lullabies is hands down the best lullaby cd around. I got so many comments from doctors and nurses and it brought such a calm to his room. One of his nurses even used to sing along with the African song and another asked if one of them was Hebrew because she recognised it as something her mother sang to her. http://www.putumayo.com/en/catalog_item.php?album_id=109

Some scary @#$%

Metabolic disorders are taking our babies! I have often said that an extra check mark on a lab requisition at the first hospital I took Deklan to may have saved him a world of sickness, maybe even his life, but now that I am at home at the keyboard of my computer, my googling confirms it. It makes me feel absolutely sick to my stomach. Deklan's disorder was a particularly rare and nasty one, but there are a myriad of other manageable metabolic conditions killing babies. The key is EARLY detection and management. Many of these conditions can be detected before a baby even becomes symptomatic. With metabolic babies even a cold or flu can send their bodies into crisis. When Deklan was set to come home we had to have a very strict protocol in place as to exactly what steps need to be taken should he turn up in an ER.

I can easily see this becoming a life's work for me. I would give anything to have my little sweetheart back but that's just not possible. The next best thing would be to spare another mother this kind of gut wrenching loss.

http://www.savebabiescanada.org/

I used to feel...

Like there were not enough hours in the day. I was always in a rush. Too many things to do and not enough time to do them. The feeling of being a day late and a dollar short, like I was almost drowning was a very common one. Before. Now I have not felt rushed. Not once. I realize its probably because I'm missing him so, but since Deklan passed there are almost too many hours in the day. Too much time to miss him.

Today I realized that maybe this is my gift. My thank you present for taking care of the son who was on loan from The Lord. I'd like to think that I did right by him in his short life. Because of how I feel the universe works, I don't think getting him was a mistake. I've always thought I got the perfect kids. I've always just instinctively known what they needed, and felt its because they were perfectly matched to me. Years ago when talking to a mother with two children, both of whom were adopted, I had asked if they both had the same birth mother as they looked so much alike. Her response was that these children were given to her by God, so why not make them a matching set. That's how I feel about mine. They were given to me. Deklan was no different. When he became very ill at 4 days old I had a very tough conversation with God. I know he's yours, and you can take him God, but I want him. And I got him. For 4 months and 8 days more than anyone thought I would. And of course I'd rather it had been 8 months or 8 years or 80, all those days were extra, borrowed, a blessing.

Those 4 months and 8 days went by in a blink. The days in the hospital were busy ones. He was being taken care of by doctors from many different disciplines. There was always someone coming into his room. Or an appointment to go to. Or a test or scan to be done. Life was busy. And it felt like the time I spent with the other kids was just as rushed. Many a time I'd just wish for more time. And what was always my silent plea to God has now been granted. Once when I had left Deklan (in his less sick days) with his dad and spent a full night at home with the other kids, I returned to the hospital and together The Lumber Guy and I took Deklan overnight to The Ronald McDonald House, where we were staying in the city, on a pass. I asked The Lumber Guy if he felt more comfortable with Deklan here (RMH) or at the hospital. He said I feel most comfortable when you're with him. This must be why Deklan was given to me. I was who God felt most comfortable entrusting him to. So, I would hope it is in return for being there for my precious boy while he was with me that my wish was granted. Although I did it for no other reason than I love him unconditionally. This is how I assume God feels for all His children. And this is His gift to me. More time with the children left with me here on earth. I don't feel I have to stay up late to do just one more load of laundry. I have tomorrow, or the next day.

There is always time to read Pinkalicious again before bed.

Of course I wanted this to be at the end of the post...

I don't even know what to write anymore. Or do. Or say. I've lost my little sweetheart. And I don't even know how I'm able to function. I'm sure its probably because of the kids and their need to be taken care of. They are probably the only reason I get up in the morning. After talking to the hospital social worker for the first time since Deklan's death I feel better knowing even getting up in the morning is progress. But thank goodness people just know that when someone dies you send food cause cooking is the last thing I want to be doing. For the first week I ran at a flat out pace organising and putting the house together after my four month absence. But now I am starting to crash and burn. It's really starting to get hard. I'm finding going out with all the children the most difficult because I feel like I've lost one. I know I have but I feel it in that literal way. The best way I can describe it is this...While in the second big city we were air lifted to The Lumber Guy and I took Little Peeper out for lunch to a nice restaurant. She was the only child with us for the majority of our stay there and it was a luxury for her to have us together. He and I switched off at being at the hospital so Deklan was rarely alone. This particular day we decided to go out for lunch at a restaurant attached to a mall. When we got up to pay she ran. She ran around a booth and out into the mall. But because she'd run out behind the booth it had looked like she ran into the restaurant. She was missing for three whole minutes. Three minutes of sheer hell. We even called security. All she had done was some window shopping. But that feeling of losing her and not being able to find her is what I feel all the time now. And when I'm out with the kids its worse and I'm constantly counting them. I even have dreams and the baby isn't Deklan but its lost and hungry and crying and I can't find it. It tears me apart because everything I believe tells me he is safe and well and happy where he is, so why can't I feel it? I could feel everything with him. He and I had a bond I didn't have with the other kids as babies. It was a physical type connection and maybe I just had it with him because he was the only one who was unwell. I felt it even before he was born. At one point my chest hurt for two days. I didn't know if I was getting sick or if I was tired or why it was feeling that way. He had a chest x-ray and it showed a collapsed lung. Things like that were not uncommon throughout his illness.

I'm trying to pull the meaning and the lesson out of this. It's hard. I'd like to be able to recount his story in a productive, reflective, meaningful way but I just can't yet. Its all gonna come out in bits and pieces for now I'm afraid. All I know is that I was so blessed to have had him, even if it was for just 4 months and 12 days. He was honestly the sweetest human being I've ever known. Everyone who met him loved him. In a way I was lucky. I had him completely to myself for his whole life. His life was in the hospital and my only job was to be there for him. No dishes to do. No kids to get off to school. It was was just Deklan and Mom. His bath was his favorite thing and sometimes I'd bath him twice a day. When we were moved to a shared room with no tub I took him in the shower with me. That was how little I left him. Even when I spent time with the other kids his dad was with him. And one of us stayed until the other got there before we'd leave. In his sickest days I'd stay up until he was calm and fell asleep cause me holding his hand worked better than Ativan. One day he'd been crying for a couple of hours and when I came in and talked to the nurse he heard me and stopped. That's how strong our bond was. So now I wish I could feel that he was at peace. But I don't feel much.

Even in death we could not leave him alone. We did not want him to spend another minute more than he had to at the hospital. We called the funeral home to come and get him the evening he passed so he did not have to go to the cold place in the basement. His father carried him out to their waiting van. He was wrapped in the new little blue blanket I'd bought for him. It was so nice to have someone to buy blue for again. There's been so much pink in this house for so long. We pushed to have him cremated the very next day because we could not fly home without him. I don't know that we'll be able to bury the ashes. It seems fitting that he is here with us just as he always has been. So the little green velvet bag is upstairs in his crib. Next to his dresser full of all his little clothes I washed and put away. I know he's not coming back to wear them, but I just don't know what else to do with them. He'll always be a part of our family. The little brother. And his stuff won't always be here, but right now its fine that it is.

I guess this is probably enough rambling on for now. I'll post a picture that I feel is so fitting. On the bus to the airport everyone paired up. The seats were in twos and we took up a few rows (the joys of having a big family...we also checked 9 bags). All the kids were sitting together and I looked back and saw my sweet little HannaBanana...

My Summer of Sandwiches

The most recent picture of my little fighter.

The PICU days.

Well, it would seem that I am living proof that a person can exist on sandwiches alone. Oh, and I've also worked pretty hard to eat my own weight in puffed wheat cake. There isn't much selection when it comes to hospital cafeteria food, and the hospital is where I have been every day for two months. I'll go back to the beginning now.

Deklan Jon, my little sweetheart, was born on July 7 at a healthy 8.8 pounds. He came into the world in the usual way, other than this time around I had this feeling like I was scared to give birth. It sounds absolutely crazy, but I just had this feeling of impending doom when I'd go into labour, and those feelings of stress shut labour right down. I actually said to The Lumberguy during labour that I had a feeling like something was wrong.

Fast forward a couple of days of labour stopping and starting and our healthy, wonderful, long awaited baby BOY arrives. A little strawberry blond, blue eyed miracle. Everything seems normal. Perfect actually. He and I had an amazing first day at the hospital. He nursed like a maniac, loved to snuggle, and even slept in my hospital bed with me. We even took our little guy home. That evening at home, day 2 of life things start going backward. He seems fussy, not nursing as well, clammy. In the morning I phone the health nurse. She says everything I am telling her is still within the realm of normal and I could leave it if I wanted. But that sinkin suspicion inside me told me something just wasn't right. I phone my doctor's office. He says to bring him in to emergency in the city an hour and half away if I wanted him seen. I think everyone thought I was crazy. Going into the city again. Even I didn't want to make the drive again after all the labour trips, but something just wasn't sitting well.

By the time we got to the emergency room he was quite lethargic. That was actually the last time I'd hear him cry in 3 weeks, as he slipped into a coma.

The doctor, a pediatrician of 30 years told us he was just dehydrated. And maybe he had an infection. They started an iv and took a sample of spinal fluid. It was really hard for the hippie in me to accept that they were going to start him on two different antibiotics 'just in case'. That night he lost the ability to self regulate body temp. And this started the process of what I loving refer to as the hospital 'fucking the dog' for 2 days while his condition deteriorated. They tested pretty much everything and found nothing.

On the second afternoon I witnessed what may well have been the scariest thing in my life. I saw my baby stop breathing. His little lungs had been working too hard. He had become septic. He was airlifted to a bigger hospital. In retrospect him stopping breathing was a blessing, because it got him where he needed to be and fast.

Within two hours of being transported we had a diagnosis. The doctor came into the little, seventies hotel reminiscent waiting room where we'd been waiting for hours and said theres good news and bad news...The good news is we know what it is, bad news is we don't know if we caught it in time. We pretty much paced a hole in the floor waiting for the logistics to be sorted out...he needed to be transported across the city and it was unclear if he'd make it. A NICU transport team was thrown together, his drugs mixed, blood typed and ordered from the blood bank to prime the dialysis machine. We actually saw the ambulance, his ambulance scream past us as we sped across the city. That was a feeling I'll never forget.

The doctors worked feverishly against time into the wee hours of the morning. I remember the pediatric nephrologist coming out and talking to us, telling us about the CRRT machine and its risks, the only chance at saving his young life. It was the only way to get the unsafe levels of ammonia out of his blood. A good number for an ammonia level is 50. At that point his was 1800. It had poisoned his system, caused seizures and his organs were shutting down. I don't want to go into detail, but they explained he most likely had a urea cycle disorder. http://www.nucdf.org/ucd.htm

I can't even remember now, as the days have all run on into one long never ending blur, but he was on the dialysis machine for about three weeks. Upon coming off he went into septic shock and he was found to have a pseudamonas infection from all the lines in him which had been masked by the machine. It took trying out different medications until finally antibiotic number 7 got it under control. He had to be on that for 4 weeks after his blood cultures started coming back negative. Slowly but surely he started losing lines and his ventilator. He was stable enough to be moved from the pediatric intensive care unit after 4 weeks to a regular ward within the children's hospital.

We have been staying on the ward for over a month now. I hate it. It is so hard and so far from the life I envisioned for myself or my children. In order to be a good mother to him, I am separated from the others. After being misdosed and overdosed, I do all his feedings and give him all his medications myself. Let me tell you, and this is not just the hippie in me talking as I have witnessed it myself...if you or a loved one is hospitalized, you need an advocate, or if you are well enough advocate for yourself. Check your chart, ask questions, call your caregivers on everything. There have been two big mistakes made by staff since we have been in the hospital. They were mishaps with drugs, as well as other mistakes like lab requisitions for another child having Deklan's name stamped on them.

I think the hardest thing in all of this beyond almost losing him was the fact that I'm not able to nurse. I can't nourish my child. He has to be on a very strict modified combination of formulas. Amino acid modified medical food...yum.

It is so late and I am very tired, and there is so much I'd like to say but I'm going to try to cut it sort of short. Maybe if I get back to my computer I will blog more.

Welcome To The World Little Man

Strawberry Blonde Snugglebug

07-07-09

8 lbs 8 oz

22.75 "

Adventures in L & D

No. I have no baby to show for my night in the hospital last night. But I did have an adventure, let me tell you.

First, I'm quite sure this baby may at this point be far too comfortable and has decided to stay in indefinitely. Well, it threatens to come giving me an evenings worth of time able contractions, which play me out and I give in to sleep, only to wake up and have them gone.

So for the last couple of days I've been feeling off. Headache, blurry vision, weakness, all stuff I've never experienced in pregnancy and can actually be a sign of trouble. I decided after toughing it out the first day to call in to labour and delivery last night. The nurse said it can be indicative of a problem and all it would take is a few minutes on the monitor and a blood pressure and urine test to know for sure. But here's the kicker....hour and a half drive to get there. I thought to myself that if something were actually wrong or the baby was under some kind of stress, I'd never be able to live with myself not checking it out because it was too long of a drive. (Mothers would drive to the ends of the earth for their kids, so really what's an hour and a half, right?) That and it was an excuse for The Lumber Guy to eat a Macdonald's burger.

Everything checks out, the baby is really inactive, which it has been for a few days now, but no big deal. The nurse pretty much says everything is ok but lets wait for your doc to see you since she's on call and is coming in anyway. She also says you're only a finger tip dilated but the dr might want to check you herself. Ok this story is getting way too long. On to speedy version now... Dr comes, says you're 2 to 3 so we'll keep you for the night. Baby does what it has been doing, plays the yep I'm gonna come tonight, I do a few laps around L & D, get tired, go to sleep, wake up, nothing. Very depressing. Dr comes back this morning, and this is where the real fun begins. She tells me I'm about a 3 to 4 and I have two options. A) She can try to rupture membranes, or put me on a drip to augment labour and come back and break water at noon. B) I can go home.

Do I want to have my baby today? Heck yes! Do I want to slide down that slippery slope of intervention? Not a chance! I can see how a woman would go for this. After a week of stop.start.stop.start. it would be nice to have it over and hold my lovely little baby. But I just could not willingly sign myself up for that. I've never had my water broken before, or a drip. I have no idea what that would be like for me. What I do know is that I have been able to birth 5 babies naturally without any drugs or interventions. And I don't say this like I'm some kind of hero. I just know that I'm capable of doing it, and to tell you the truth the other option scares the living daylights out of me. I don't know how my body would tolerate an unknown medication. Maybe I couldn't weather the storm of contractions without my bag of water intact. I opted to come home and see what my body decided to do.

And it was not the decision the dr thought I should be making. She actually said, well I'm not on call anymore so I won't be following you around, and, I guess you want to have your baby in the ambulance.

I guess this didn't fit into her schedule as nicely as she would have liked. The nurse was super supportive. She told me she's only been a L&D nurse for 4 years but she's seen it a lot. One thing turns into another and you end up pushing your body to do something its not ready to do and all too many times the end result is a section.

So here I sit, blogging, and doing dishes and laundry and getting to spend the day with my little Peeper and Poopypants. I could have been hooked up to a IV all morning. Maybe I'd have had the baby by now. Maybe it wouldn't have been that bad. But I love where I am right now. I'm happy and comfortable, and I hope that means the baby is too.

P.S. Well not too comfortable you little stinker. You still need to come out and meet us.

Riding The Wave

Yes I'm still riding my hormone high, and it has enabled me to crank out another finished bedroom. Well, technically its not finished. The Lumber Guy still has to finish putting on switch plate and outlet covers and take down some painter's tape for me, and my darling little HannaBanana will have to decorate as she sees fit, as its her room. She is the sweetest girl. I found her many collections of shells, rocks, and animal figurines when cleaning up. And the Webkinz....oh those Webkinz. They are like children to her. She has made them clothes and toys and even takes them to school. I set up an old pantry which became Peeper's closet for a while, as her Webkinz display spot. (The green and white thing in the corner.) In all of this craziness of cleaning and organizing I am finding new love for my old house.

The Nesting Insanity

After, which because of my very limited computer skills is first.

Before (quite embarrassing really)

I am definitely a woman gone mad, or, well that's how I feel lately. I have literally been at a flat out run around this house for almost a week. I just finished up work last Saturday, and thought, ah time to relax til this baby comes. Wait a minute...that was my easy job. I got paid for it too! Since then I have been twice as busy. I realized that I was nowhere close to having this house the way I wanted to have it before the baby came. And its funny how every. single. stitch. of. bedding. suddenly had to be washed again. Oh what hormones will do to you.

And I must say that physically I feel wonderful. My sensible little bean of a baby decided to turn head down and since then its been smooth sailing. The kids are all getting along pretty well too. That's always such a happy surprise when it happens. They've been to the pool every night for the past six night, with the exception of last night. (storm) But we had eye appointments in the city anyway, so it kind of worked out. That brings me to the next bit of my nesting insanity.

I've never been a real 'material' person. But lately I haven't felt prepared in the way of having all the 'stuff' needed for a new baby. Weird considering there have been five before. So while in the city I ended up spending an obscene amount of moolah. Now, however, I am ready. Bedroom painted, furniture moved, crib set up, bedding and baby clothes washed, coming home outfit bought, washed and packed, natural baby products stocked. I even bought a smaller size of diaper wraps for my prefolds so I can start using cloth diapers sooner than with Peeper. I will wait till we get past that messy meconium though. Now I just want to get the rest of the house in order, if that's possible. And maybe even have some meals and baking in the freezer and ready. It may be overly ambitious but I am gonna ride this hormone high as far as it will take me and get done as much as I can.

M.I.A.

I have definitely been missing in action lately. And there has been quite a lot of action around here as there always is. I have gone through a real nesting spree and did get a lot cleaned out, organised, donated and dumped. But now the nesting instinct is overpowered by a severe lack of energy. I usually end up going to bed at the same time as the last of the kids, around 9:30pm. Working, or raising 5, or being pregnant, on their own, totally manageable...but put them together and its a recipe for exhaustion. But I'm exhausted in a good way. At the end of the day I feel like I've accomplished something, really done something.

I'm really missing the care that only a midwife can give this time around. Yesterday was my routine appointment with the OB. I happened to be 30 weeks exactly. She felt around and told me the baby is breech. All my others were head down right from the beginning, so this was new to me, but what floored me was her very one sided, close minded opinion on it. She said, ' I book you C-Section, one day before, we scan you and baby may have turned.' WTF!?! Is this something I'm just supposed to accept? Are you kidding me? To have gone through 5 natural un medicated vaginal births and then this? I started asking a bunch of questions. All of which were basically brushed off or shut down. She even told me that DR.s don't do versions anymore because they're too risky. And had I not asked, I doubt she would have brought it up. But I do have some time before I need to worry. From what I understand babies are still quite flippy at this stage. I did go online and find some exercises to encourage the baby to turn. And if I go back to her in two weeks and the baby hasn't turned, I'm going to ask for a referral to another Dr. Better to find someone a little more open minded earlier than before I'm right down to the wire. Versions are still done in the next city which is 4 hours away, but worth looking into. I'm not the meek little thing I once was. I'm going to explore every option available to me. And I'm gonna give my doc the benefit of the doubt because she wasn't even supposed to be in the office that day. Maybe she was just tired and didn't have time to talk. She's been studying and writing exams, but the doc that took on her patients while she was away got sick. Maybe she realizes its still early, but has that prepare for the worst kind of take on things. I don't know what her story is, but I know mine, and in the end I'll be doing what is best for me.

I have also met with a lot of opinion about my decision to add another child to my already large family. As far as I'm concerned love multiplies. Large families are not for everyone, but I know what I can handle. And yes, my time will be occupied even more, but that just means I have to be more efficient and organised. I'm willing and excited to do both. And I have a loving and supportive partner doing more to make my life easier. It just wears me down when it comes from people close to me. And no one should ever say to a child that their mother is not going to have enough time for them when their new sibling comes. That is just plain wrong. While cleaning out my basement a couple of weeks ago I found a glass frame with the word 'Strength' that I had not unpacked since moving. I have a lot of nice things I have not put up because I've been waiting to paint. This was a gift and it had been displayed on a shelf in my rental, before I bought my house. I loved it. It had a red flower and the Chinese strength symbol as well. Upon pulling it out of its box I noticed it was cracked in two places. At first I was upset because I really did like it and I wanted to be able to hang it back up. I couldn't put up this less than perfect keepsake on freshly painted walls. But then I really looked at it. What a metaphor for life, my life. Strength was misplaced but was found again, and cracked but not broken. It means more now to me than it ever did. Someone was looking out for me once again and showed me what I needed to see.

Something Cute to Share

Sizing each other up.

Miscellaneous Life

So my son just came up from playing in the basement quietly for some time...dressed in a ladies' hat and vest. Hilarious. Life is always amusing around here. We do have quite a selection of dress up clothes down there. All he needed to complete the outfit was the pink stilettos. Poor guy. It would be nice to bring home a little blue bundle this time around. There is just something so special about the way little boys love their mommies. But either would be nice. I've really never had a preference for one over the other any time I've been pregnant.

This time around I didn't get a midwife. Not by choice, but apparently there are a lot of July babies coming this year, and they're booked right up. I'm still holding out hope that maybe I'll make it far enough up the waiting list though. In the meantime, I have an OB that seems to do the trick. I fall in love with this child even more every day.

My dear HannaBanana just got out of the tub and I ragged her hair, just like my mom used to rag mine. She is such a beautiful spirit. A little peace maker.

The tiny maniac has been beading up a storm this weekend. We bought a set of beads and clasps. Even PoopyPants made a bracelet for one of his girl friends at school. All I could think was look at this kid now! This is the guy that the teacher wanted to keep in kindergarten. That couldn't hold scissors or a pencil 'properly'. He has come such a long way, stringing tiny beads onto wire. It was hard for me to go against the advice of the principal and the teachers, and say I was going to go with instinct and have faith in my child. He proves everyday he was ready for the challenge and change grade one brought.

This post has taken a long time with little Peeper on my knee. Her job is pressing the space bar. Not that this post really had a purpose to it. Mostly I am just hiding out so I don't have to watch curling...again.

Why I Love The Lumber Guy

There is someone that I seldom speak of, yet he is an important part of my very interesting life. Its easy with the pace of life here being what it is to forget to mention him. And we did go through a really rough patch about a year ago. But somehow we managed to come through it stronger than ever.

We met officially about two and a half years ago. He was around the same age as Mr. Maker, so he was always somewhat of an acquaintance, as everyone around here of the same age is bound to have mutual friends or end up at the same events. But I never really had much to do with Mr. Makers' activities or friends. I was fresh on the heels of my separation and at that point I was just trying to keep busy. I went down to the lumberyard in town to buy paint for the house. And that's when we officially met/spoke. A week or so later he happened into my place of work and we had something to talk about...paint. I know, how very boring, right? But it was an excuse for conversation I guess. He gave me his number in that high school reminiscent way and I jokingly texted it, asking, "Isn't the guy supposed to get the girl's number?" I sometimes wonder if he was totally crazy for pursuing me, knowing I was a newly single mother of four with one on the way. But I see now that he saw something that took me longer to acknowledge. We never had that butterfly/love at first sight kind of thing. But I've always been able to tell him everything, and I mean absolutely everything. He has definitely seen the worst of me. I'd like to think that I've seen the worst of him too. And yet we still value and accept each other for who we are.

Even when it was really bad between us we still talked. I know that if I ever needed anything, he'd be there for me. And he really has been. For the little makers too. They never have to walk to school. And I don't have to get the little ones bundled up and take them out in the frigid cold. He leaves work to come and take them to school. And bring them home for lunch. And take them back after. He also without asking has taken to clearing the table after supper and loading the dishwasher. It is such a big help because the bedtime ritual for five is quite time consuming. To get everyone in bed and then not having the supper mess to clean up is such a luxury. For the first time in a long time I feel like I have a partner in life. Not a playmate, not someone to answer to, but someone to live along side. We are like an old married couple, even though we technically don't live together. I joke because people in this town like to talk. If they could see just how scandalous our life is...our evenings spent of him watching hockey and me folding laundry.

I realized again just how much I love him when he left to go on a 4 day golf/hockey holiday with a friend. His presence around the house is missed. Seeing him so happy and excited to get away warmed my heart. He's been working really hard, taking on extra projects at work, and extra here with me being sick. He really deserved to go away. Instead of going for coffee at work this week he built the Tiny Maniac a dollhouse book case, like we'd seen at Costco. He's thoughtful like that. And he supports my crazy ideas in life, even though we are two different people.

Its not passionate or exciting, but the thought of our comfortable, stable, loving future together in itself is exciting to me.

Little Maker...In The Making

There is so much I have to say about this new little life we are awaiting, but instead of doing it half way on such a busy day I'll have a proper post up soon. Today and the rest of this week I am working on getting Bedhead and Tiny Maniac's room painted. We've lived with the mint green walls for long enough, now it is time for them to go. One room at a time I am getting our bedrooms in order, complete with a major closet/toy/clothes overhaul. Its therapeutic donating heaps of stuff-for me anyway. I crave the order and organization right now. Could it be nesting already?

Two posts in one day...

My little Peeper weaned and potty trained this week! She came about the potty training on her own. I noticed her readiness and have been letting her go diaper less for a while. Until now she would ask for a diaper when she needed to pee. Now she'll either run to the potty on her own or tell me. What a little dolly! She's even wanting to do #2 on the potty too.

The weaning was a little different. I had the UTI from hell these last two weeks. I can usually kick them on my own and they reoccur less if I do, but this one had me curled up in a little ball, sweating and shaking. The Dr. wrote a script and I hate to admit the drugs are good. ( Not that good, but you never realize how crappy you feel until you start to feel better.) So since little Peeps was only nursing about twice a day, and the drugs pass into breast milk, now was as good a time as any. All I did was explain to her that, "Mommy's boobies have yucky medicine in them". She sees me take the horse pills, and seems to get it. We even went to the store and picked out a special big girl cup. She is great about it. We just cuddle a lot. She is very snuggly now, and I love it. The whole nursing/weaning process has been painless with her. It went beautifully from start to finish.

Tonight I am taking the kids into the city and we are going to stay in a hotel and swim and order pizza, and try to beat the winter blahs. Its supposed to be -30 Celsius here tonight. I would have had to go in to the city tomorrow anyway, as I have a Dr. appointment, and since the kids don't have school tomorrow, it saves us driving there and back in one day. Its kinda sorta doubling as part one of a two part eleventh birthday celebration. Bedhead is bringing along a friend. I'm going to buy them each one new thing to wear to the school dance next Friday. That night, part two, she and her friend will wear their new item to the dance and have a sleep over after. It blows my mind that in the same week we're potty training and shopping for a school dance. All the ages and stages are special in their own way.

The Stepford Wives

I had the enormous pleasure of working last night. At one point it felt like the clock was actually ticking backwards. I guess I should probably tell you what I do for a living. I am a bartender/server at a private club.

I used to bar tend in a bar, but, as I put it to my boss when I gave my notice, if I stayed working there putting up with all the patrons' bs i was going to turn into a raging bitch. It was like babysitting adults really. So I found this new job doing the same thing for way less money. But the difference is since it is a members only club, there are rules and standards of behaviour expected. My boss and co workers are great, and the customers are awesome. One of them brought peanut butter cookies for us at work last night. And regulars give us bonuses at Christmas. This is separate and apart from any sort of wage, they just do it because they appreciate the service. Unlike the last establishment I worked in. There it was like because you were the servant it gave customers licence to dump on you. I got absolutely sick and tired of the stigma attached to working in a bar. The reason I started to work there was because the hours were right. Mr. Maker and I were married and he worked days. He was really good about the bed time routine and had no problem getting four little kids into bed like clockwork. They got to sleep in their own beds and didn't have to go to daycare. I went to work at 6 and they were in bed at 8, so it was less time away from my little makers. I worked the bulk of my hours while they slept. But in this ass backwards town people had to make it scandalous. To them I was there for a good time. Not my idea of a good time, people! After he and I separated it wasn't as relevant anymore, but the money was so good, it was hard to leave. Now I only work enough to pay my mortgage. I'm experimenting with the budget to see if it is financially feasible to work even less. And I just noticed I am way off topic.

Last night, it was quite slow at work and it left me time to notice a few things. There was a table of 8 women. They are all moms of kids the same age as mine. I noticed 5 out of 8 of them had the same haircut. All of them each have two children. They all work days and their children go to some form of daycare. What is this place I'm living in? Not that I have a problem with any of them, I find them to be quite personable. I just noticed how different I am. And not that different is better or worse, its just different.

And this got me thinking. I'm never gonna be one of the Stepford wives. My hair is long and natural and usually worn in a bun. (read boring) My ratio of guy friends and girlfriends is pretty much even. I couldn't see myself enjoying an evening out discussing outfits and purses. I quite enjoy the company of the older ladies from church. There are people out here in my middle of nowhere small town that I do like, but there are few I spend time with. There is no part of me that feels the need to fit in or conform. I choose to live in a small town. And I know that comes with the double edged sword of knowing (or thinking you know) everyone. I'm not going to judge anyone for their differences. I wish it was a two way street, but accepting my own differences and knowing that I may be the topic of discussion because of them and not having a problem with it, I feel, is a huge step in personal growth.

And while 'the haircut' is very stylish and trendy, I'll be keeping my librarian hair.

Progress...One Peanut Butter and Jam Sandwich at a Time.

Its possible what I see as progress in my life could be viewed by some as a big step back. I mean, why would someone use cloth diapers when today's disposables are so thin, absorbent and easy? Or why would you possibly make your own bread when it costs $1.69 for a bakery loaf from the store? Yes, I'm still nursing my 21 month old, and she still sleeps in bed with me. I'm sure people view me as a sucker for punishment, with my five kids, making more work for myself.

What works for me might just not go for someone else, and that is just fine. When I was faced with the prospect of bringing home a new baby, with four others at home, losing sleep WAS NOT an option. Having her right there in bed when she was hungry in the night guaranteed me as much sleep as possible. She nursed like a maniac ten minutes after birth. She knew what she was doing. It was instinct. And I'm sure when she doesn't need it anymore she'll stop doing it. Just as her sisters and brother before her did. She's gone the longest out of all five. She drinks from a cup without a sippy lid, and eats the same meals we do, its just that she has an occasional boob. The actual term for it is 'child led weaning'. To me its just common sense.

When BedHead was born my mother gave me a tub of diaper cream she just swore by. Well there was never a bum rash to be had. The same was true of HannaBanana. After Poopypants, it expired and I thew it out. With The Tiny Maniac I never even missed it. But Peeper was a different story all together. At two weeks old she had the reddest little raw bum I'd ever seen. I tried everything. Nothing worked. The midwife told me that all the rash she'd seen lately was coming from babies whose Mommies were using Pampers sensitive wipes. I cut them out, and it got a little better. The kids got a kick out of their old pj's as bummie wipes. (I'd already ripped up a couple old receiving blankets into hankies after my darling little Tiny Manic ripped up a kleenex and stuck a little piece up her nose.) And Arrowroot powder works wonders too. But she still had an irritated little bottom. The last and most scary step was switching to cloth. The self doubt held me back. Could I do this? I bought a kit of prefolds and covers. They were so easy right from the start! Why had I not used these four babies ago? Its only one extra load of laundry every 4 days or so. When you already average 2-3 loads a day it doesn't seem like much. Since then I've bought a couple of pocket diapers. They are nice, but pricey. I like that I can stuff them with my prefolds.

I compost. I don't do disposable lunches. I take my own canvas bags to the grocery store. The little red wagon has put on some miles. I recycle. I had one of my driveways pushed out and earth hauled in for a garden. I cook mostly from scratch. I buy organic when possible, and I love going to Mrs. Snider's garden market in the summer. I have been saving my little plastic fruit clam shells for her, and my egg cartons for the lady whose eggs I buy. For me it is just a heightened awareness of the world around me that inspire me to do these little things every day. Its not as much as some people do, but its more than others, and right now its just right for me. They are baby steps to my dream of a more sustainable life.

So today as I'm making the PB&J sandwiches I realize this jam was made by me with strawberries picked this summer from the u pick. And I made the bread on Tuesday. The peanut butter I bought, but it is 'just peanuts'. No oil or icing sugar added. And I realize that this is not a gargantuan gesture, but its my tiny progress.

Its my part in what I feel could be a huge movement if everyone made their own tiny, green, baby steps toward it. Only doing what one is capable of is all I feel it would take. And now that I am doing everything I feel I'm capable of, I feel like I want to do more, push out of my comfort zone a little bit. Maybe start some of my own seeds, have posts pounded for a clothesline, possibly even make my own laundry soap. (The old lady who lived here before me left a lot behind, as she was 90 and her daughters do not live very close. She left washing soda and bars of pure soap. I have borax, so all the ingredients are there, I just have try it.)

So try something new and green. Make some progress! And if anyone actually reads this blog, I'd love to hear your stories.

Snow Day #4

School has been cancelled four days in a row now. The strangest thing is that I'm not exactly sure why. It isn't cold, it isn't raining anymore. There was an awful lot of snow that fell. Maybe its still just really slippery. I wouldn't know though because honestly people, I don't go anywhere!

So you'd think that after being at home for 4 long days with no TV the kids would be at each others throats and I'd be pulling my hair out, right? Well these little makers just keep surprising me. Everyone is getting along famously. Its funny how for the older two having the little ones around is a novelty. Yesterday they invented a club. For the afternoon they were on the computer outlining the purpose and rules of the club. They even made buttons to wear to the meetings. On them they had their various positions within the club...BedHead, Vice President. It was too cute. Today was their first actual club meeting. I think this may be the greatest club going. They took the little ones under their wing and had all these activities planned for them. Oreo lick race was one of them so needless to say they had the little ones' full attention. Hannabanana and BedHead kept everyone busy for 3 WHOLE HOURS.

So I'm almost embarrassed to say I napped on the couch. But after a busy day like yesterday I think it was well earned. When I got up yesterday, I went full on. By the time I looked at the clock at 9:00am I already had the dishwasher running, two loads of laundry done, kids up and dressed for their day, kitchen swept, and bread dough made and in the sun to rise. It was a work night too. So I'm literally handing the potato masher over as I'm running out the door to be at work for 6pm. When I get home late, it never fails, a little sleeping head pops up to greet me. Peeper still likes to have her midnight nurse. The days are long and full, but I wouldn't trade them for anything.

A Happy Heart

At the very core of me there is a belief that I am somehow being provided for. That everything is not just a coincidence. That mostly there is a reason for everything. It is just up to me to see it. And that isn't always easy. Life jades us, and makes us cynical, negative...if we let it.

My life is busy. Sometimes I feels like I'm spread so thin, pulled in so many different directions. I wonder about the time I get to spend with the little makers. Is it enough?

The point I am trying to make is that when I question this the most, is when the divine signs of the universe are the most clear. I worked a bunch of days in a row and fell behind on everything at home. I took PoopyPants to the movie, just him and I. And HannaBanana and I went for a girls afternoon out shopping. I like to take the kids out individually when I am able and give them some alone time with mom. It doesn't happen often because I'm a single mommy, but when it does I always feel a little guilty about the ones left behind. 'Family time'. So after all these special one on one activities I was feeling like I just needed us to be all together. Monday morning I woke up to quite a surprise. A silent wish granted. School was cancelled due to ice and freezing rain. It was cancelled again today. Two extra days to just be together and enjoy each other's company.

So the kids got a snow day without the cold and snow. They played outside TOGETHER...all of them without fighting. Then they came in to hot chocolate and fresh peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. (I'm sure little noses can smell them before they're even through the door.) Now they are playing contently. I just get to sit back and listen to the sweet noise of my everyday. I am thankful for what I have been given. Life is beautiful.

The Trade Off

I don't ever say my house is clean anymore. If I've spent the day hauling ass I usually say its 'cleaner'. That would be the more politically correct description. I mean its never as clean as I want it to be, or as clean as the old, type A me would have been satisfied with. I have found that since there are always children around its more of a trade off. While I clean in one room they terrorize another. And as a parent my job mostly entails distraction and damage control.

The other day I NEEDED to get my dishes done. Playdough and coloring just weren't gonna cut it at keeping the Tiny Maniac and Peeper entertained anymore. So while I did my dishes in their entirety the little ones played with an improvised rice table. I cleaned out my pantry of years old chick peas and rice that never quite cooked right, threw in some lentils for color and voila...30 minutes for mom. They had scoopers and little animals to feed and bury.

As a side note though, my entire kitchen had to be swept up. I got the dishes done but I guess it was a trade off. But everything is though. At least it wasn't marker on walls or pen on couch, right?

Today

Today I want the world to stop turning. I want the clock to stop greedily ticking little pieces of my day away. No preschool. No dance. No work. Just time at home with the kids. A girl can dream can't she?

Ok, enough of that...

Back to the laundry.

Look What Mrs. Maker made.

Cookies!

The best peanut butter cookies I've made yet. And the only reason I made them was out of a crazy craving for sweets. Oh, and I ate more of the dough than any adult should admit to eating. I don't have a lot of prepared stuff in the house, so when a craving strikes I have to be inventive. Not that eating cookie dough is an inventive solution, but it worked like a charm.

100 Things about Me.

Not that I think anyone really wants to know 100 things about me, but other people do it on their blogs. I can just hear my mom now with the whole if your friends jumped off a bridge analogy.

1. I sat here and thought for at least a full minute about whether 1 or 100 should go first. And that takes me to #2...

2. I'd totally be Type A if I had time to be. But lets face it, when there are 5 little ones as busy mine running around, you've gotta give up on some of the things you used to view as super important or you'll go crazy trying to keep everything 'just so'.

3. The little 'clock stretching' segment on The Big Comfy Couch boggles my mind every time.

4. This list would be a lot easier if it was 100 things about the kids.

5. I had my first child at 17 years of age. The same month I received my papers for the U of M Bachelor of Nursing Program. I threw them out. Nothing was more important in that moment than being there for my child.

6. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

7. I need to take more pictures. There were books and books of pictures of Bedhead when she was little. There are less and less for each subsequent child. Trips and experiences have come and gone without proof.

8. I am a Nazi when it comes to a healthy diet for the kids. But when left on my own I am a junk food junkie. I love healthy food too, oh but that crap is soooo good.

9. My favorite flavour of Kool Aid is Ice Blue Raspberry Lemonade. The kids think that its purpose in our house is to color and scent homemade play dough.

10. I generally don't care for country music. Except Johnny Cash. I even outwardly appear bored and unimpressed when Mr. Maker used to listen to him. But inwardly I enjoy all his music. I watched almost a whole Johnny tribute concert with The Big Fat Liar and loved it. Shh.

11. I want to paint my house blue.

12. I love to bake. Cooking not as much, but I'm actually starting to enjoy it too.

13. I haven't used a dryer sheet in over a year. They are the one thing I was sure I could not part with. But the hippie in me won out, and now I don't even miss them. My clothes aren't static-y either. Go figure.

14. My dream is to be as close to self sufficient as possible, living off the grid in my own little hideaway. The weirdest part of it is it has been a dream since I was a kid. I must have been a strange child.

15. I'm a horrible singer. The little makers have been subject to me belting out Abba's Dancing Queen more than any child should ever have to.

16. I have a good job and work with great people, but contemplate quitting every week. I curse under my breath that it takes me away from studying for spelling tests and packing lunches. At home is really the only place I know for sure I want to be.

17. I have more tea pots than anyone needs. I love them and have collected a few without even realizing it. Now I'm going to purposely buy more and call it a 'collection'.

18. I love tea. I'm a 28 yr old tea granny.

19. The people I respect most in this world are my grandparents. I didn't even realize how great my grandfather was until he was gone. To have that kind of fearless ambition in life is amazing. And rare.

20. I have not seen very much of the world. Not out of fear but out of contentment. This fall I saw the ocean for the first time.

21. I could count on one hand the amount of times I have been jealous. Its something I just don't do.

22. I make my own bread. I feel guilty when I have to buy a loaf at the store.

23. This summer was the first year I had a garden. It was late and small but next summer is going to be exciting.

24. I bought my house on my own. Me...a single mom of five! Proof that determination and a goal can get you where ever you want to go.

25. I hate living in town.

26. I could never live in the city again - ever!

27. I never secretly hoped for one sex over the other when I was pregnant.

Well I think 27 things is a pretty good start.

Poor Little neglected Blog.

Oh bloggy, how I've neglected you. You helped me through a really rough patch there. Being able to blog out all my thoughts was like therapy.

You may think it has been procrastination keeping me away, but I, old friend have been busy living life. I saw the ocean for the very first time. I learned that forgiveness is sweet and the ability for the heart to love is boundless. The little makers have all grown and become more of themselves. And I have found a little more of myself too. There has been so much it is hard to put into words. The hustle and bustle of everyday, beautiful life is how I'll sum it up.

That being said, I have come back to you once again, little blog. And I have decided that I will take you along on my journey of life.