if the shoe fits

For the past few days, I've really been pondering a comment that someone left on my post last week. In essence, I was told that I write about my life like it is a drama-filled tragedy.

(Just the fact that I'm writing about it more now, probably confirms it. Eh?)

Last night when I was in the Emergency Room until 3 AM (no drama there!), I went back and read through ALL of my blog posts for the past four months. And while there has been a lot of "activity" in our lives recently, I've really tried to stick to the facts, the honest feelings that I have about specific situations, and how we are managing to forge ahead, as POSITIVELY as possible.

My new boss often says, "I don't like to make sausage in front of the customer."

What he means is that nobody except the immediate team, should be witness to our behind the scenes operations. And sometimes, we have to grind through some rather ugly stuff to create a product that will hopefully, be pleasing and tasteful to all.

What I've determined is that this blog is like a big old sausage factory.

Sure, I could solely write about the adorable and hilarious things my children do. But this blog has always been more than that. This blog has been created to document OUR story as we NAVIGATE the amazing trip of life. Sometimes, during the course of navigation, you might experience moments of pure bliss and tranquility. The seas of your life are calm, the breeze is gentle and the visibility is spectacular.

Othertimes, a storm gets whipped up out of nowhere. It feels like you're going to capsize and you need to hang on for dear life. The seas are so violent you throw up all over the deck (and the guy standing next to you) and your visibility is totally lost because you can't see past the next wave that is washing over the front of your boat.

Is that a drama-filled tragedy?

No, it's LIFE.

Chances are, if you're reading this, you have one.

Although, you may not choose to share the intricate details in a world-wide forum.

(Of course, that would make you SMARTER than me!!)

One of my best friends wrote to me the other day and told me that for us to consider buying a home, at this juncture, might be considered fool-hearty. We don't really know the area; We don't really know if we'll like the area; I don't know if I'll like my job; I don't know if I'll KEEP my job; We've been through a lot these past few months and is it responsible to bury ourselves in debt on a whim? She is 100% correct.

But I wrote her back to tell her that almost ALL of my big life decisions have been fool-hearty. If I only listened to my MIND, and not my FOOLISH HEART, I never would have moved to California 20 years ago. I never would have married a man whose entire family was on the opposite coast. I never would have gone through three rounds of IVF and transferred SIX embryos during my final cycle.

What kind of crazy person does that?!

The same kind of crazy person that would pack up a car with four children under the age of four, on less than 48 hours notice and drive 7,000-miles back and forth in three weeks time across the entire continent. The same kind of crazy person that during a recession, would spend almost $5,000 of their own money raising almost 10 times that amount and then within four months, run 26.2 miles and walk 60 miles, over three days, to raise awareness for a critically important cause.

The same kind of crazy person that would allow themselves to get pregnant for a third time, when they already have four children under the age of six. The same kind of crazy person that has always wished to move back to the east coast - so sold off their beautiful home, gave up their totally cush job, packed up their entire family and left on less than two months notice to a new area, SIGHT UNSEEN.

You have to possess a certain amount of courage, ambition and faith to just go for it.

But more importantly, you have to possess a certain amount of CRAZY.

Clearly, there has been a storm brewing in our lives for the past few months and there have been a few times we've wondered what it would take to be placed in to a medically induced coma until...

Well, I don't know exactly when.

I'm really sorry if that bothers you. I'm really sorry if you'd rather not read about OUR drama. I'm really sorry if you think we create too much drama. While I've considered taking yet another blogging hiatus until we get settled, what I've decided is that this blog is cathartic for ME. It's cathartic to write about things, sort through issues, and SOMETIMES, it's cathartic to read the kind words that people write to me. Other times the comments are downright patronizing and why I take the energy to respond requires a session with a therapist.

So, last night it was me in the hospital.

In a nutshell, I've had some significant complications as a result of my ectopic pregnancy. So the fact that maybe I've been a little more "emotional" than normal all kind of makes sense, now. And let me be the first to say, I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG. I've been saying it and saying it and finally, I decided that I better take my own advice and LISTEN to my body. So I called my California doctor's office, who suggested that I immediately go see a specialist in South Carolina and considering it was 10:00 PM on a Sunday, my options were limited. But after a lot of testing last night, and even more testing today, and still more testing tomorrow, I'm so glad I went because now it's been confirmed: I haven't been imagining it!!

(Thank you, Insurance Company. The bill is going to be HUGE.)

When I returned home at 3:30 this morning, I climbed in to bed next to a sleeping (and still brunette) Charlie. Within 20 minutes, I woke up to Henry crying. I brought our three-year-old in to bed with us, and within another 10 minutes, he rolled over and threw up all over me.

Oh.

Dear.

God.

PLEASE NO!!

But yes. That continued for the next five hours. Me falling asleep, only to be woken up 10-20 minutes later by my little one, vomiting next to my head.

At 10:00 AM, I loaded the children (and a bucket) in to the van and drove my husband to the airport so he could catch his flight back to California. Whilst praying that this bug doesn't whip through the whole family because my mother just got ALL new carpeting in her house and we're staying with her and not everyone knows how to grab a bucket in time. Right??

And also, Charlie is so (incredibly) susceptible to these viruses and this week will be so busy for him, the last thing he needs is to be throwing up every 15 minutes in between talking to the movers. "Wait! Please don't take the bed! I need to lay down for a .... BLAP!"

Charlie called me in between making his connecting flight to tell me:

1) He bumped in to one of my highschool classmates at the airport. As it turns out, my former classmate is one of the lead engineers designing the building that my current business unit will be moved in to, approximately five years down the road, in TEXAS. So yes. We haven't even moved in to our new house in Virginia and yet, it's been verified by a reliable source that we shouldn't get too comfortable. Isn't that awesome? In a so-unbelievably-NOT-awesome kind of way?!

2) He was delayed by two hours in the Dallas airport when the tram that he was riding on was stuck between terminals. And then, his plane - that he otherwise would have missed - was fortunately delayed. But then, unfortunately, it was delayed for THREE hours because of mechanical difficulties. So there he was, all alone and forced to enjoy a quiet dinner, by himself.

I reminded him that the last time I was in Dallas, I spent the night sleeping in a terminal, with thousands of other passengers, when they shut the entire airport down. Although, it wasn't just ME and a book. Oh no. With me, were two of my babies, including one that nursed for almost 16 hours, straight so he wouldn't SCREAM. The other woke up with gum in her hair that she contracted from beneath a dirty seat. We had no cot and no luggage and no blankets and no cell phone and no carseats and a limited supply of diapers. But we had fun because we seized the moment and tried to make the absolute BEST of it.

And you know what my husband told me, when I reminded him of this fact?

"JEN, You are SUCH a drama queen."