genie of the lamp

I saw a counselor yesterday. *Gasp!* Now many of you may be shocked or even ashamed for me that I would admit that. Going to see a counselor is very taboo, much less admitting  to it.

Some of you might think that counseling is only for the truly messed up. The people you know that you would send to an insane institution if you could. The kind of person you would never ask to dog sit, because there is no telling what you would find when you retuned home.

Door #2 - maybe you think that it is acceptable, just maybe, if you have had a major trauma in your life. And even then, you believe that first-class people don’t share even the most difficult of issues with someone outside the family. That would be wholly inappropriate. *Gasp Again!* You should be able to get through this on your own, you’re a big girl.

Another group of people believe that no one should receive counseling because God is the great counselor, and if you are truly a child of His......well you know the rest. *Gasp! Gasp!*

And still yet we find more nay sayers. And this one’s the kicker. Normal people don’t need counseling. Ruminate over that for a few minutes. N O R M A L    P E O P L E don’t need counseling. Hmmmm......well we all want to be part of that group right? The alternative *Gasp! Gasp Again!* being that group over there, the abnormals. EEEWWWWW........ that is simply not an option.

So we sit and judge, all the while needing counseling ourselves. Some more than others. I, the all amazing, ever impressive, mamumba sheemy jumba genie of the lamp, surmise that everyone could benefit from counseling. *GASP! GASP! GASP!*

Now my yoga training gets to stretch it’s proverbial legs. Close your eyes and imagine a place. A place that feels safe and warm. A comfy place, where you can snuggle deep in your big overstuffed armchair, or you can lie in that sun in your hammock, a breeze blowing lightly on your face. And then you just start talking. No one else making a sound. No judgements. No preconceived notions or prejudices. It is just calm and comfy. At times a voice will ask you questions, to clarify or lead you on your way. No expectations. You can just be.

I saw a counselor yesterday. *GASP!* And I hope many of you did too. Believe me, as all powerful genie of the lamp, I know you need to.

negligence

My momma is here to visit me.

I have 4 days with her.

Which means she is going to get every second of my time.....

and in turn.....

you will get none. 

I apologize in advance for this gross negligence on my part.

I just can’t help myself.

She is my momma.

so sleepy

Finley has a yeast infection which has caused the most amazingly, awfully horrible diaper rash in the history of diaper rashes. She finally reached her breaking point last night around 11. Nothing helped. We had been trying everything we could think of. Cream. Bath. Powder. Vaseline. A combo of all. Next was internet research. Nothing was working. She could not go to sleep. She was giving it the old college try, but just couldn’t get comfy. Charles fought the good fight until 1:30 am. At that point his options came down to - a: call my mom. b: the ER. c: wake me up. He settled on c. Not only was I comatose from my bedtime meds, but I could think of nothing else other than what had already been tried. Pretty much, I was just moral support.

We quickly reverted to our newborn survival schedule. Taking turns, eyes propped open with toothpicks, hands moving at the rate of molasses. The major difference being our poor little baby barely made a noise. Now let me just say, if it had been our more dramatic daughter, the entire neighborhood would have known she was in pain. She would have screamed all night long. Her passion for life just eeks out her pores.

Our sick Finn playing Angry Birds

But not Finn, she’s so mellow. She tried over and over again to go to sleep. Laying quietly with eyes wide open for about 30 min at a time before she called us. We rotated sleeping beside her bed, having her sleeping in her bed alone, letting her sleep with us. Not one thing worked. Finally around 3 or 4 she fell asleep and slept till 6. Ahhhh, sweet relief.

Upon comparing notes in the morning, neither of us could remember much of anything. I do remember a few calls of “mom” from the top of the stairs. I remember accidentally clawing Charles in the face to wake him up. But best of all I remember Finley laying in bed next to me teaching me how to rub her blankie like she does. It was so sweet, she was a very precise teacher, I afraid I wasn’t a very studious student with my eyes barely open.

Now we have finally been to the doctor, waited at the pharmacy, eaten at McDonalds......we even let her keep her paci in her mouth all day long, which we usually reserve for bedtimes. Lots of pampering for our little girl. She fell asleep around noon, just about the same time as........zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

thalia

This is an excerpt from the book "Growing Stronger" by entertainer Thalia. As I read it, I was overwhelmed, I felt like she was recounting my life. Almost every word of her story follows mine, (other than the whole being famous, selling more than 40,000 records, and dancing with President Obama part.) Seriously though, my deep, deep prayer, as you read this, is that it will give you greater understanding into this devastating disease and my journey in particular.

 The Mexican-born entertainer who goes by the single name of “Thalia,” is one of the most famous Spanish-language singers in the world. She’s sold more than 40 million records, has starred in “telenovellas” (soap operas) shown around the world, had a lavish storybook wedding to prominent music executive Tommy Mottola, has sung at the White House and danced with President Obama. In the midst of all of that activity, in 2008, she came down with Lyme disease. Thalia devotes a chapter to the harrowing experience in her recently released memoir, “Growing Stronger.”

The singer started feeling ill near the end of her first pregnancy. After the birth, Thalia’s health really crashed, and she was incapable of caring for her newborn daughter.
Her doctors attributed her symptoms to post-partum depression. Thalia thought something else was going on. “They didn’t care what I said,” she writes. “It was as if I was talking to a wall.”
Nothing her doctors gave her helped at all. “I continued to feel like I had been run over by a truck that had dragged me for a thousand miles, along with a steamroller that had crushed every last bone in my body. I literally thought I was dying.”

Any time she could marshal even the smallest bit of energy, she’d check the internet for information that might help. Eventually, her research brought her to Lyme disease, a condition that was eventually confirmed and treated by Lyme specialists.

She recounts how difficult the treatment was: “I would sweat profusely, soaking my pajamas, the sheets and even the mattress; everything hurt, even my hair, which, by the way, started to fall out. At times it felt as if my head were going to burst, as if there were lead inside of it; my eyes ached in their sockets….the hypersensitivity of my skin was so severe that sometimes I couldn’t even handle the bed sheets.”

Thalia writes that two years of heavy treatment put her “on the road to recovery.” She has changed her lifestyle to incorporate good nutrition, exercise, and stress reduction. She has returned to singing, writing, and other creative pursuits. “I have started to live again.”

my problem

I have a problem. My name is Brooke Fox and I am a Shepherd.

l really had no choice in the matter. It was God’s divine plan. I grew up a Shepherd. I was taught from a very young age that you never EVER pass up a good deal. Sales were created just for Shepherds. 50% off tears at my heart, and 75%, ouch. I don’t care if its a pair of steel toed construction boots, I still have to be dragged away. The $1 section at Target is just cruel. I have to sit on my hands as I go thru there or I end up with $20 worth of stuff and I haven’t even made it into the store! (Those marketing people are S-M-A-R-T smart!) And thrift stores and garage sales, well Charles doesn’t even let me go.

This next part is not for the faint of heart. Viewer discretion IS advised. We are moving on past the wholesome world of good deals into the dark unknown........

When I was little, once a month, late at nite, Dad and a bunch of friends would take all the seats out of the van and go “trash cruisin’.” Yes my friends, trash cruisin’. It was the night before the trash man was coming, and once a month, the trash companies would let you put out anything you wanted to get rid of, and I mean anything. Those pieces were the objective. I was only allowed to go along once or twice - after all - I took up valuable space.

My daddy, circa. 1979

Now, folks, they had reached a whole new level here. Dad and his buddies weren’t looking for good deals. They were out for FREE deals. And a FREE deal people, well that is a whole new bird. Free deals are like candy, stuff as much of it in your mouth as you can and run! I remember trash cruisin’. They would grab the item, drag it into the van and yell, “GO GO,GO,GO!” as my dad pushed the pedal to the medal. Well, now I have found my golden fountain of free deals and I am currently hemorrhaging candy. There is no more room in my system and yet I cannot stop. Just one more piece can’t hurt, eh?

Have you seen “Horton Hears a Who?” The scene where the gorilla sticks bananas in his mouth until one comes out his nose. Yes, that is me. Candy from your nose is painful, but not nearly as painful as passing up a free deal.

Charles literally has to accelerate as we pass things set out by the side of the road. A saggy old couch, a run-down console TV with rabbit ears, a cracked (but definitely still usable) mirror, moldy wooden chairs left to rot..........must I  go on? It’s a problem.

I remember, one year as a surprise for mother’s day, we (minus mom) snuck down to the end of our cul-de-sac in the van - we had disabled the interior lights so they wouldn’t come on when the doors opened, very stealth. I’m sure Dad could feel the tingle of his old trash cruisin’ days. Except this time, I was the driver. He had removed two of the seats, and Josh, Mindy and Dad were all hunched down on the floor. One of our neighbors had left a huge projection TV out by the trash. Ah, sacrilege! So, we snuck down after dark, all in black, ski masks optional. We pulled as close to the TV as we could and as soon as I rolled to a stop they all jumped out and somehow wrangled that huge beast into the van. As I heard those reminiscent cries of “go go go go!” (whispered this time,) I was drawn back to those days of ole. Once trash cruisin’ is in your blood, it’s there to stay.

Back to me and my candy problem. Less than a week ago I discovered the holy grail of free deals! ENT or E Reader News Today. They have bargain books and other such deals, but I only have eyes for one shimmering tab that says “Free Kindle Books.” My mouth actually salivates as I click that tab and see what treasures lie beneath. I have already downloaded over 100 FREE books of which I have read none. I have the candy in my mouth and I am on the run......

My name is Brooke Fox, and I have a problem.

wanted

I want a full-time assistant, no, a chef, no, a nanny, a housekeeper, psychiatrist, chauffeur, nurse .....i don’t know.....you decide.....

I’m looking for someone who can deal with quite an array of emotional, irrational outbursts and other dysfunctions.  From the lowest of the low pity parties to the highest of high diving unattainable dreams, this person will have to be able to seamlessly adapt to my ever changing highs and lows.

This must be someone who can hook up an IV with one hand while driving Robyn to school with the other. This someone should be able to figure out the universal remote while clearing dirty dishes. and simultaneously wiping a poopy bottom (Finn’s, not mine.) Someone who is prepared to eat frozen pizza or nuggets every nite, or to creatively combine leftovers for dinner. This person should enjoy crazy bedtime rituals, daily toy explosions, and spontaneous changes in schedule.

Next, housework is a must, so come prepared. Vacuuming should be a daily chore, oops, I mean pleasure. Spot cleaning the floor is fine (on your hands and knees of course,) but you will soon learn that comes with cat puke, broken crayons, paint, ground in cereal, spills of unknown substances and half chewed pieces of last night’s dinner. Also, the bathrooms. With a boy in the house and the fact that Finley is now potty trained, well, that’s all I need to say on that subject.

  This person will also be expected to do the laundry of someone with OCD. This is not to be taken lightly. The instructions are endless. Sorry. The kitchen, the kitchen is to be feared. Dishes, garbage disposal, disgusting counters and BONUS! a kiddie table.......fun times.                                                      I am also looking for a good listener, an empathetic hugger, a tea maker and drinker, a card game lover. Someone who loves to watch a good movie, over and over and over and over and over and ,yes, over again. An amazing person who loves God, me and my family and has patience, lots of patience.

I can’t pay much, but in return be prepared for lots of hugs, millions of kisses and tons of “I love yous.”  Lots of laughter, tickling and snuggles galore. Appreciation that can never, ever be described. A friendship for a lifetime.

magic pants

For my birthday I got magic pants.

These are no ordinary pants. They are magic - I swear.

My sweet cousin friend Tiffany gave them to me. For 6 weeks they hung on my closet door. I was afraid that the magic might not work on me.

See I had never had great luck with the form fitting yoga pant. I always opted for the looser ones - ones that could hide my greatest flaw - the Hinze haunches. I know, I know what you all are thinking. But not matter what size I am, they are always there, big or small, haunting me. I have accepted the fact that they will always be a part of my life. Now against your protests, let’s move on.

My cousin Tiffany and me

I knew these magic pants were not of the loosey-goosey variety. I had seen them on Tiffany - they were T-I-G-H-T tight. They looked great on her  (the Shepherd side of the family - no haunches.) Plus she is in ri-dic-u-lous shape. Gorgeous.

So for 6 weeks they hung in their little red bag, taunting me. Daring me to try them on. I was too chicken. Charles kept saying, “at least try them on. They were a gift - you should try them.” Now I know, as a man, he had ulterior motives. But still, I could not try them.

Finally, I worked up the nerve. I took that bag - that little bag with it’s taunting face - I tore that bag open, grabbed the pants and pulled them on. This was all done in one swift motion before I could lose my courage. I peaked around the corner of my closet - no one was there. Good. I could face the horror alone. I walked out to the mirror. I could not believe my eyes - the magic did work on me! No visible haunches! Magic indeed!

At Lulu Lemon in DC

 If I could have - I would have skipped around the room, danced and twirled, laughing aloud! Ok, I wouldn’t have done all that - except for the laughing aloud part - which I did, I laughed and laughed and laughed. 6 weeks - I had been missing out on this magic for 6 weeks!!!! What had I been thinking?

So, thank you Tiffany for revolutionizing my life! I wear my magic pants everywhere I go. I am saving up to buy another pair. Thank you Lulu Lemon, even your taunting red bag served it’s purpose.

I will be forever grateful!