If you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything.

Football season has started again, and I already HATE it. Okay folks here's the deal - lance lied. Bottom line - big fat lire actually he is a big fat lire that grins from ear to ear about it. Yeap, that makes me want to jump up and punch him in the face - color me a grown up (ha!). So here's the skinny - Rylan has one more week until he is officially off doctors orders, until he has hit his 6 week full recovery period. Which 'should' mean NO tackling in football. Actually this is what WE agreed upon. No tackeling until after 6 weeks. IF - Rylan decided he wanted to play football again this year, then he could run and work-out with the kids; BUT no hitting until the end of 6 weeks. *all pretty reasonable if you ask me.* Well, last night is draft night and equipment night. Lance tells me I don't really need to show-up; him and Rylan will go. I think to myself - 'how nice of him.' *now I know better*. Secondly, I didn't really want to go -because I we

When does it stop? -When do we stop thinking we are not enough? -When do we stop thinking we cannot meet society standards? - When do we stop trying so hard to be someone else? -Why are we just not enough? Not enough time, not enough money. Not enough luv'? This weekend a friend of ours (not really close) was found dead in his garage. In an effort to maintain some level of compassion for this man, I will not spill the gory details - but the death was intentional. It is sad, it is tragic and surreal. I feel like I am in the twilight zone. I feel like the neighborhood where this family lives is drinking toxic cool-aid from the same drinking well. Is it a sign of the recession? Or just reality catching up with people? Is it a list of bad decisions catching up with an individual that they wake up disgusted by the person they see in the mirror? The small block along the lane in this subdivision is falling apart at the seams, even before this tragic accident. The man and his wife we

Today we went to our 3 week check up at Children's Hospital. We were cleared for everything. He can have chips - as long as he puts them in the back of his mouth. We must still avoid utilizing our front teeth too much. However the bone graph seems to be a success - the doctor even feel the bone in his gum line. Two days ago the tape on his hip came off. The tap was attached to the surgery site. Apparently it is some new fancy tape that NEVER has to be changed. It was attached to the stitches, and once the site was healed it came off. It was water proof and everything. Under the small strip of tape is a scarr. If I get enough courage, I will take a photo of it. But for right now seeing the scarr makes me want to throw up. Makes me want to cry. I put on a strong smile when I look at it for Rylan, but it symbolizes so much in my mind. For one, that is where they cut him open. That is where they physically hurt him on purpose - the purpose was to cut to the bone, open his bone

Upate 11 days after surgery. All is going well. Swelling has gone down, smile is back to 100% and we are happy. A photo of his gumline so you can see the stitches, a photo of his hip so you can see the surgery site. A few photos of us and him. We are happy these days and blessed.

Our bone graph was a successful surgery - I survived (I think). I pinch myself every time I think I actually survived. We had a few snafus, but nothing we could not overcome. To say that Rylan is a ROCK STARR would be putting it lightly. This kid totally rocks my world, and makes me re-think my thoughts on life and purpose. He does not do it on purpose, it all sort of just happens. We WERE released within 24 hours of surgery - which floors me. Surgery was from 12:20 to 4pm. And somewhere among it all, my mother wanted me to eat. I could barely breath - please don't make me eat. As we were called back to recovery, I noticed sticky stuff around Rylan's eyes. The nurse commented that his eyes were taped shut while the machine 'helped him breath'. * my heart skipped at beat at that moment .* I imagine the stars lining up so that everything goes JUST right, so the kid can come out from being put under. That scares the living hell out of me. He is groggy, his voice is straine

It is the operating room at that hospital that freaks me out the most. How would I know that - because I go back w/ him until he is under. The room smells like a hospital, it is bleak and sterile. The only splash of color are the scrubs the doctors and nurses wear. And in an effort to try to lighten the mood they put characters and colors on the scrubs. I try to imagine being 8, on a kiddie cocktail (they really call it that), and being laid on the operating table surrounded by a bunch of big heads in red caps w/ snoopy. With the kiddie cocktail surging thru your veins, he prob feels like he is tripping. I imagine it being WAY too scary. I imagine him hearing a bunch of voices talk around him, but not too him. I imagine him being terrified as they strap him down to the table and begin poking him with needles. I imagine him wishing someone was around that he knew, that could comfort him. This is why I go back. I want him to feel and hear me, even in his head. Even as he goes under. He c