Archive for November, 2012

A Hairy Situation (that makes me see red)

November 18, 2012 8 comments

My daughter recently turned thirteen, which means she is now officially a teenager, of course, which means she is contractually obligated to test me.  She is, in general, a great kid.  She’s funny and optimistic and she talks to me about stuff, which is never to be taken for granted when you’re dealing with a teenager.  But last night…last night she did something that broke my heart.  She did it with my permission, in fact, I helped her with it.  She colored her beautiful golden locks a bright, screaming red.  Be still my heart.  It makes me want to cry.

This girl has beautiful hair.  She has the kind of hair that people pay salons fortunes to try to duplicate.  It’s blond, with natural highlights.  Long, straight and lovely.  The kind of hair that could make a person sick with envy.  And, as you might expect, she absolutely abhors it.  She tells me on a regular basis how much she hates her hair.  It’s boring.  Sure, if consistently gorgeous equals boring, then yes.  It’s boring.  But, since I’m a hip mom with more than a few hair-related transgressions in my past, I’ll work with her on this.  I’ve always been a firm believer that you should do whatever you want with your hair.  It will grow back.  As long as you’re prepared to possibly hate your hair even more for a little while, go for it.  A couple of years ago I put purple streaks into this very child’s hair.  They were, in theory, temporary, but all that lovely blond hair holds onto color like a tick on a hound dog.  She lived with faded pinkish streaks for a long, long time, so I guess she’s ready to live with the results of some real color.

We started out thinking Amy Pond… photo via

So, I agreed to it and we head to the hair color section of our local Wal-Mart and quickly pick out a shade of light auburn and we’re ready to carry on with our shopping when her father chimes in.  (If you believe that a girl’s hair should be the domain of her slightly manipulative mother alone, please give me a “hell, yeah!”)  He points out that the auburn isn’t really that red and maybe she would prefer one of the Feria Burn-your-mother’s-eyes-right-out-of-her-face shades.  And as it turns out, she would much prefer that!  I didn’t object, exactly, because this isn’t my first rodeo.  I know that saying no is the fastest way to guarantee that the kid MUST have that item.  I just shook my head and said, “You’re going to regret that.”  Nice, right?  And it would have worked, too, if it weren’t for that meddling Hubs.  She was thinking hard and leaning toward my choice, when he took her away from me and had the YOLO talk.  “You only live once, do what you want to do, be who you are, do what’s right for you and don’t let anyone tell you any different.”  Sometimes I could hit him right in his eye.  Not that I object to that speech, not at all, but it did not apply!  The point is that I wasn’t trying to stifle her.  I was trying to caution her.  Perhaps it would be better to start with a color that is actually found in nature, then if you like that, we can consider burning your mother’s eyes out in a month or so.  So not only did he win, but he made me look like a big old party pooper who wants to repress this child’s artistic and creative individualism.  Then, then!  He said he would color his the same color with her.  Talk about winning the battle!  He’s just lucky I like him, that’s all I can say.

So we ended up with two boxes of hair color, and I use the term loosely, because God never made hair that color.  I applied it for both of them and I swear I am not exaggerating when I tell you it went on looking like ketchup and they both looked like victims of a horrible accident while it percolated on their heads.  They’re both pleased, Hubs a bit more than the girl, but I think she’ll come around when she gets used to it.  She wanted something different, and by God, she got it.

Now I’m going to say to you what I cannot say to my daughter.  I hate it.  I hate it beyond all reason.  It’s hard for me to look at it.  I won’t say this to her, because it is her hair and if she’s happy, then that’s what matters and my opinion isn’t helpful.  But.  I made this child.  I have brushed and braided and curled and pigtailed that beautiful blond hair for thirteen years.  I loved it, it was the most beautiful hair ever and now it’s an extremely harsh maroonish red that makes me squint.  I hate it and I just pray that she decides to go back to blond sooner rather than later.  I am prepared to offer all manner of highlights and hair accessories to make this happen.

…we ended up with Ariel. photo via

I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to my parents for all the ridiculous hair colors I sported in my youth.  I understand now that being a parent includes a not-so-pretty, but very real, feeling of ownership and it’s really, really hard to watch your child tamper with what you have made, when everything about them is perfect already.  So, I’m sorry to have burned your eyes out of your face, but thank you for letting me do my thing.  Not only did I learn about all the weird hair colors that don’t suit me, but I also learned that sometimes I need to shut my mouth and let my kid do her thing.

More importantly, I have learned that Hubs isn’t invited hair color shopping anymore.


Five Reasons I am a Grump About Field Trips

November 12, 2012 3 comments

I just got home from dropping my son off at school.  At six freaking forty-five.  In the am.  You see, it’s field trip day.  His class is going to Monticello, the home of the illustrious Thomas Jefferson.  I got a pass on chaperoning this one, for a few reasons.  1. I have been on Monticello field trips, once as a child and once with my daughter.  There’s only so much Jefferson a person needs.  2. My son would usually rather not have me around his friends, as I am wont to do things like hug and kiss him, just to watch him squirm.  3.  I have alienated most people at his school this year, and it would just not make for a fun day.  While I do not enjoy waking a ten-year-old at 5:30, this is still one of the easiest field trips.  Even better is the knowledge that we have maybe one more year of this, then field trips will be history.  (ha. history.)

I have hated field trips for a long time, but when my children were younger, I felt obligated to go on at least some of them.  That has never made me hate them any less, either, but I don’t want to be that mom who won’t let the kid go.  We live in a part of the country rich with history and I can’t deny my kids an opportunity to see historic Jamestown, Natural Bridge or the Smithsonian.  I just don’t want to be a part of it.  In any way.  Not even in the drop off/pick up way.  Certainly not in the write the check way.  Allow me to elaborate.


  1. Some field trips are just stupid.  As I mentioned, I think historical field trips are interesting and educational.  I think a field trip to a boozeless booze cruise is a right damn waste of time and money.  Yet, that’s the field trip my kid took last year.  I went on that one and escaped early from the (docked) cruise ship with another mom in search of shopping and Starbucks.  My son was more excited about the NFL shop we found in the mall than any dumb dance party on a cruise ship.  I still have no clue whatsoever what the point of that trip was, but if I knew then what I know now, we would have saved our money and slept in that day.  I did get some fine Green Bay earrings that day, though.
  2. Other moms.  I don’t think it’s any secret that I have a hard time getting along with most people.  That’s my issue, not theirs, but it is what it is.  I am not good at small talk, I am uncomfortable around people I don’t know and there are just a lot of parents of my kids’ classmates that I just don’t care for.  The ones that I do get along with are rarely the ones going on the same field trips as I, because that’s how life treats me.  I typically end up sharing a bus with the fakey, loud, bossy moms who are planning every footstep their child will take that day and telling us all about it.  Look, I am already irritated to be here.  Can’t we just sit quietly and not pretend like we’re friends?  Because we’re not friends.  Our kids aren’t even friends.  Now, shhhhh.
  3. When I don’t chaperone…  Yes, I have trust issues.  That’s also not a secret.  I just don’t like sending my kid off alone and trusting a teacher or other parent to get him back.  Does this sound paranoid?  Maybe to you, but I had a five-year-old who wandered away from his group at the zoo, found another school’s field trip bus, and tried to ride who-knows-where with them.  This is not a child who can be trusted to stay with his group.  He gets distracted, he wanders off and he will not spend one second worrying about it, because he’s sure he’ll find a bus somewhere.  So, yes, I have some issues trusting that my kid is going to get home.  I would like to think that he’s now old enough to be a little more responsible, but one never knows.  My traditional parting words to this child on field trip day are, “For the love of God, stay with your group!”
  4. The bus.  Sometimes you have to ride the bus.  Most of the time chaperones are permitted to follow behind the bus in their own vehicles, but sometimes they’re not.  Gasp.  Riding a bus for hours with over excited children and their parents.  No, no, no, no, no.  Just hell to the no.
  5. Pickup.  Invariably, the school will provide a pickup time that is set in stone.  They lead you to believe that if you are not at school to receive your child at 4:30 on the dot, the galaxy will collapse in on itself.  Obviously I want to be there to get my kid when he returns, but the thing is that they never return on time.  Never.  Not even once have I ever seen a field trip bus roll in when it was supposed to.  I know things happen, there’s traffic, someone needs a potty break, or they have to hunt down the kid who wandered off at the zoo.  That knowledge does not temper my irritation and impatience when I’ve been sitting in my car at the school waiting for an hour and a half for the damn bus.  There is always a mom who gets a call from a teacher on the bus, at which point she will triumphantly shout, “They’re on the way, only 45 minutes away!”  Jeezy peezy.  How about I just start driving in that direction and yank my kid off the bus on the side of the road?

So, this afternoon and 4:30 on the dot, I will be sitting in my car at the elementary school, thinking of all the things I could be doing with my time.  I will likely spend the time honing my persuasive skills so I can convince my son that he doesn’t really want to go on the DC field trip next year.  We took a family trip to DC recently, during which he discovered that he dislikes museums and excessive walking, so I might have a shot.  That one is the worst.  Parents have to ride the bus, it’s a long trip with a lot of traffic, it’s really, really expensive and there’s not a chance in hell that I will send my kid to DC without me or his father to wrangle him.  Wait.  His father….  excuse me while I go formulate a plan.


Drinking All the Coffee

November 11, 2012 6 comments

Glorious Sunday morning.  So I had high hopes of sleeping late this morning, but that damn feeding tube machine thing started beeping for a refill at 6am.  Since Hubs handled the middle of the night refill, I dragged ass out of bed after he elbowed me jumped up to take care of it immediately.  By the time I refilled the bag, disconnected, primed the pump, reconnected and got the whole she-bang going again, I was awake.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am for this feeding tube set-up, which is providing my kid her nutrition while she heals, making her feel better and letting us stay at home to do it, but would it have killed them to make a bag would hold enough Ensure to last through the night?  I am too old to be doing these nighttime feedings.  This is why I had my children as a young woman, so as I hit the high side of my thirties, I could properly rest my tired old bones.

But anyway, that’s not what I meant to talk about.  The result of the early-ish morning refill is that I am awake earlier than I intended to be today.  I intended to be indulgent and lazy and stay in bed until at least 7:30.  But, alas, my body doesn’t understand that, even though we get up pre-sunrise every other day of the week, we are allowed to sleep on Sundays.  Ah well, nothing to do but make the best of it.  The best of it being drinking all the coffee and catching up on Facebook and blogging.

Everyone here is still asleep, and I like it that way.  I suspect that Hubs didn’t mean to sleep this late, but I’m tiptoeing around so he doesn’t get up yet.  I have claimed his chair for the morning and have already drunk half a pot of coffee, so it’s really in my best interest if he stays where he is, at least for a little bit.  What I have going on right now isn’t much, but it’s going to be the only time I have for myself, just for me, all week.  Every other moment, someone is going to need something, or expect something, or talk to me.  I just need a minute, just for me.  To do a few things at my own pace, to think at my own pace and to not listen to anything.  Oh, and to turn on old Roseanne reruns without anyone griping about it.

This is what my Sunday morning has been.

  • I paid a few bills.
  • Then analyzed my DirecTV plan and tried to think of ten people I can refer to reduce my bill.
  • I thought of zero people I can refer to DirecTV.
  • I put a load of laundry in the washer.
  • I hunted up my son’s karate uniform to wash and found it clean and folded, leading me to believe that his claim of participating in class Friday was untrue.
  • Made a note to myself to discuss the dire consequences of lying to your mother with Sonny Jim.
  • I shamelessly drank cup after cup of coffee, deciding that the last one up can make more if he wants it.  You snooze, you lose.
  • I have created a mental to-do list for the day, including cleaning many neglected things to ready our house for Thanksgiving guests.
  • I am working on creative ways to introduce said to-do list to Hubs, thereby crushing his dreams of a quiet Sunday.
  • I tried to think of how much I’m willing to pay my kids to do my grunt work for me.
  • I watched the sunrise.  I mean, not literally, but I did notice when it got light outside.
  • I determined that it is too early to start the chicken stock for dinner.
  • It’s also too early to go out to do yard work.
  • It’s actually to early to do much other than sit here and read and write blogs.  Don’t want to wake the family.  I’m considerate like that.

So, you see, it’s been a delightfully quiet Sunday morning.  I haven’t done much, but I’ve done enough to honestly make the claim to Hubs that I’ve been “doing stuff” all morning.  He almost never asks for a definition of “stuff.”  Just one of the many reasons I love the man.  To be honest, he doesn’t care if I’ve been doing stuff or not, but it makes me feel better to say it.  But whether I’ve had a productive morning or not, I still feel refreshed.  We’ve had an incredibly stressful couple of months, in which I feel like someone is pulling or tugging on me, needing something, every moment of every day.  Having a minute to determine, once again, that I can’t easily reduce my DirecTV bill?  Priceless.

Facebook in November – the condensed list of thankfulness

November 4, 2012 7 comments

It’s November, and we all know what that means, don’t we?  My Facebook feed is full of thankfulness.  A large number of my friends are embarking on what seems to be an annual challenge to post something they are thankful for each day in November.

I don’t have any particular quarrel with this practice.  I think we can all benefit from counting our blessings.  However, it’s just not my bag.  I have a difficult time being earnest and sincere for 30 days in a row.  Who am I kidding, I can barely be serious for 30 minutes in a row.  Also, it gets kind of repetitive.  I am thankful for my children, my husband, my parents, my health…  yes, yes.  We are all thankful for these things, we’re decent people who want to recognize our loved ones.  It’s just so unoriginal.  On the years when I host Thanksgiving with my extended family I make everyone say something that they’re thankful for before we have our meal.  (I can’t do this when we have Hubs’ family because there are so stinking MANY of them and we don’t want to food to get cold…)  In recent years, I’ve added a twist.  You can’t say that you’re thankful for your family.  Be specific!  I should add that I make a bangin’ roasted turkey, otherwise they would not tolerate my nonsense.

So, anyway, I am not participating in the Facebook thing.  I like to reserve my status updates for ridiculous and/or embarrassing things that my kids have said and done, just like any other proud mama.  But I am inspired to be thankful, so I shall present my list of thankfulness here.  All thirty days in one fell swoop.  See how efficient I can be?

Now, in no particular order, is my November list of things for which I am thankful.  I am purposely omitting things like family, health, friends, or gainful employment, not because I am a monster, but because those things should go without saying.

  1. Slippers, because my feet need hugs after a long day in heels.
  2. Filtrete water station.  I can pretend I’m being environmentally responsible, not just too lazy to carry cases of water.
  3. Sam’s Club, because they carry huge bags of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee at a spectacularly low price.
  4. The Sam’s Club membership that my mom and sister maintain, so they can be my coffee suppliers.
  5. Pay at the pump.  Remember when you actually had to walk inside the gas station to pay?!  Even if there was a sleeping baby in your car?  Egads.
  6. Scrubbing Bubbles Toilet Cleaning Gel.  Go get some right now and you will see what I mean.
  7. Teenage boys with manners.  Nothing warms my heart like seeing a young man holding open a door for a stranger.
  8. Fantasy football.  I thought I was a football fan before…this brought it to a whole new level.
  9. Good books.  If I couldn’t lose myself and my worries in a good book, I would have gone (officially) crazy many years ago.
  10. My husband’s BBQ ribs.  They are so. damn. good.
  11. One a Day multi-vitamins.  They keep me healthy and maintain my energy, even if I’m living on BBQ ribs.
  12. Children who sleep a lot.  This allows Mom to sleep a lot.
  13. Gum.  I like gum, it stops me from grinding my teeth and eliminates coffee breath.
  14. Disposable contact lenses.  In the old days, we had to make them last.  And nothing tears a contact faster than knowing you can’t get a new one for a whole year.
  15. Avon Waterproof Super Shock Mascara.  It’s shocking how good it is.  (See what I did there?)
  16. Grilled cheese sandwiches.  There is something to be said for simplicity.  Also the only acceptable use for American cheese squares.  Everything needs a purpose.
  17. Food network.  Hubs and I cook a lot, and this is where we learned it.  Hats off to David Rosengarten for introducing us to a new love with his pancake episode.
  18. Grammatical errors on public display.  They make me feel smart.
  19. Regular show. (via This show is so absurd, you can’t help but love it.  Also, the writers are of my generation, so it feels like the jokes are for me.

  20. The Most Interesting Man in the World.  This guy has given me endless amusement.
  21. Uranus.  Thank you for being the laughingstock of our solar system.  Way to take one for the team.
  22. Pandora.  Anyone remember snarled up cassette tapes or scratched CDs?  Yeah.  Pandora is awesome.
  23. Homemade stuff.  There is an immense satisfaction in making something from scratch and there is nothing more touching than receiving a homemade something.
  24. Old ragged baggy pajama pants that are older than my children.  Because they are comfy.
  25. Plantation window blinds.  Despite their best efforts, my cats cannot break these.
  26. Bacon.  It makes everything better.  I mean EVERYTHING.  Bacon cookies?  Check.  Bacon brussels sprouts?  Check.  Bacon bacon.  Yes, please.

  27. Good running shoes.  You don’t actually have to run to enjoy them.  And when you wear them, people might think you run.  Or at least that you have cute shoes.
  28. The auto-correct function on phones.  Just yesterday I got a text message saying that I have creepy staplers.  You can’t buy that kind of entertainment.
  29. The right/responsibility to vote for my president, and the freedom to openly mock both candidates.  Binders full of women, anyone?
  30. Parentheses, ellipses and sentence fragments, because I would be unable to write without them.

Thankfulness is a beautiful thing, but why so serious?  Of course we appreciate the big gifts, but we shouldn’t forget the little things that make us happy.  After all, life is made up of the little things.  What makes your life easier, happier or more fun?  Let’s be honest, I know you love your husband, but at least your grilled cheese sandwich doesn’t forget to feed the dog, does it?

Life is a Shipwreck

November 2, 2012 17 comments

My mind has been AWOL lately, and it all came crashing down on me this week.  As I’ve mentioned, my daughter has been sick.  The short version:  At the beginning of September, she got what seemed to be a typical stomach virus, except she failed to recover.  She started vomiting every single piece of food she ate.  After several visits to the family doctor, some blood work and experimentation with food restrictions, we were referred to a specialist.  We’ve been working with a pediatric GI specialist since then.  We’ve done blood work, a CT scan, a gastric emptying study and, finally, a brain scan.  She’s been living on Gatorade and Ensure for two months…at least, until she starting throwing up Ensure and became so weak that she couldn’t even pick herself up off the floor after she was sick.

So, on Monday, her doctor decided to admit her to the hospital.  See, we knew that would happen.  We knew it was coming.  We have been trying desperately to get some nutrition into her and maintain her weight so we could (maybe) avoid it.  Nothing doing.  The doctor has known since our first visit what is wrong with her, but I’ve been steadily convinced that she’s wrong. (She’s not wrong).  It’s called gastroparesis, and if you are unfortunate enough to be familiar with the condition, then you have my sympathies, because it is a wretched beast.  Basically what has happened is that her stomach has stopped working.  The parts that push the food out of her stomach don’t work anymore.  So, she eats and the food just sits there.  This is apparently a not-uncommon complication from a certain kind of stomach virus bacteria.  Modern medicine doesn’t really understand it and they don’t really know how to treat it and they certainly can’t fix it.  Gastroparesis is, for many people, a chronic, lifetime illness and my heart hurts for them, because it’s just not fair to not be able to eat.  However, the doctors insist that my daughter’s is temporary and, with time, her stomach will heal, or “reset” and she will be perfectly fine.  How much time, you ask?  There’s the kicker.  No one knows.  It could be a week or it could be months.  I’m reasonably certain that it will be under a year, unless my kid is going to be the one the doctors use as the extreme example the next time they talk to distraught parents about this.

Anyway.  Right now we have to give her stomach complete and total rest to encourage healing.  Since good nutrition is fairly important to healing, and, you know, living in general, we had to go drastic.  She had an upper GI endoscopy to rule out any last-minute surprises, and to round out our complete collection of everydamnGItestthereis.  The doctors did find evidence of bacterial infection and decided to give her a ND feeding tube.  I’ll spare you the details, but the tube bypasses her stomach, so the Ensure is routed directly to her small intestine.  This way, she gets her nutrition and her stomach gets to rest.  And she gets to have the experience of snorting a plastic tube up her nose, then swallowing it.  Dear Lord.  Anyway, we did it, cause you have to do what you have to do, and she was sent home with dire warnings about not eating any food at all for at least three weeks, until our follow-up appointment.

Throughout this whole experience, I have learned a lot.  You know how it is.  The doctor throws out a couple of terms and you immediately hit up Google.  Google has not always been my friend, because it still insists that these symptoms could be caused by a brain tumor (ruled out!), but for the most part, knowledge is power.  Here I shall share with you some things I’ve learned on our journey thus far.  You may already know these things, but since I’ve never been to medical school, had a serious health issue, or spent a whole lot of time analyzing my digestion, unless I’ve eaten cabbage or mexican food, I found them to be interesting little tidbits.

  • “Hungry” doesn’t come from your stomach.  I have always assumed that when you feel hungry, it’s because your stomach is telling your brain that it’s empty.  Not so.  Hungry comes from further down the line.  If you dump food directly into your intestines, you will feel full.
  • Just because someone is a pediatric doctor, doesn’t mean he’s fit to be around children.  Or their mothers.  Our doctor in the hospital was not our regular doctor, he was another member of the “team.”  (We went to a teaching hospital, so we had a “team.”  More on that later.)  He was also a gigantic asshole who should go do research or hide in a basement or some other thing that prevents him from having contact with other people.  I asked a question and got a smart ass response.  It got heated.  In front of my kid.  Fortunately, she is old enough to have witnessed such things before and she KNOWS that her mama doesn’t take that shit from anyone.  Especially not when I’m sleep-deprived, stressed, worried and confused.  All I expect is civility and possibly a touch of kindness.  That’s not so much.
  • Teaching hospitals are actually kind of similar to Grey’s Anatomy.  Okay, well, probably not really, but I would not have been very shocked to find a couple of our doctors going at it in the on-call room.  Everyone seemed to be about fifteen years old and clueless.  We got several visits from doctors on our “team” every day and they routinely gave me bad information, looked confused and were unable to answer my questions.  News flash.  Everyone knows that “That is a very good question” is code for “OMG, I have no idea.”   I’m all for learning, but until they have learned enough to be more of a help than a hindrance, they need to stay away from me.
  • The hospital cafeteria offers a large coffee (Starbucks, even) for $2.02, as long as you have the mommy-access wristband.  However, if you show up from 11:30-11:45, it’s only $1.91.  Sweet.  I think the cafeteria cashier might be my new BFF, since we spent so much time together.
  • Nurses and volunteers are angels sent directly from heaven.  The incredible frustration and anger I experienced with our very bad team of doctors was tempered only by the unbelievable kindness of the nurses on our floor.  They were, without fail, kind, helpful and caring.  They answered my questions more completely than the doctors and stopped at nothing to get whatever we needed, whether it was a few minutes of privacy or a pencil to do crossword puzzles.  Volunteers showed up to do crafts, bring Halloween costumes, and deliver a bag of Halloween goodies (which included not one piece of candy for the kid who can’t eat.  I cannot tell you how that thoughtfulness touched me.  Especially since her doctor never even had the good sense to stop her meal service.)  I can’t imagine the heartache that comes from working with sick children every day and as far as I’m concerned, these wonderful people have a guaranteed spot in heaven.
  • Gatorade is considered a clear liquid.  Apple juice is not.  Weird, huh?
  • Despite what anyone might tell you, they will not sedate a child in order to insert a feeding tube.  It was a special kind of awful, but she muscled though.  It was interesting, though, because they really just get it in there, then wiggle it around until it gets where it’s supposed to be.  Skills, yo.  As an interesting side note, the radiologist who performed this feat looked remarkably like Arizona from Grey’s, except she did not have an amputated leg (that I know of).  No, there was no getting away from those comparisons in my mind.  My poor imagination had to go somewhere that wasn’t dark and twisty.  (there it is again.)
  • Despite our cat’s unfathomable love of straws and all things similar to straws, he does not attempt to tamper with a dangling feeding tube.  Not as stupid as he looks, that one.
  • Nutritional requirements of a thirteen year old girl come out to about eight cans of Ensure a day.  Regardless of how medically necessary it may be, Blue Cross/Blue Shield will tell you to suck it up and pay out-of-pocket.  Thanks, guys, that’s sooooo helpful.  At least I finally get to claim feeding a kid on my taxes next year.
  • Attitude is everything.  I have been struggling to stay positive through this whole thing, because it’s my job to keep my child’s spirits up.  That doesn’t come naturally to me.  I’m not sure how naturally it comes to her, but she’s been amazing.  Not once have I seen her cry, feel sorry for herself, or complain about how incredibly unfair life is.  (And, oh yes, it is.)  She has her ups and downs, naturally, but any kid who can laugh through this is going to be just fine in life.  She is growing into a remarkable young woman.

All this brings me to the odd title I’ve given this post.  In my search for inspiration, I discovered the following quote.  It’s my new mantra and it’s gotten me through some dark and scary moments.  And even though one hopes that all of our dark and scary moments are behind us, this is worth keeping in my brain.  Sing on, y’all.