Alright, listen up! I find that I need to come up with all of these blog posts and I have no idea whether you will like them or relegate them to the proverbial circular file (trash can for those of you too young to know of what I am speaking!)
So, here’s your chance, my loyal (and even if you’re not so loyal!) blog followers. Tell me what you think.
I’m an adult (most of the time!) I can take it! (Well, maybe I can!) So, be honest. Where would you like to see GF Recipes and Writings go in the next few weeks…months…etc.?
This is your chance to tell me what you really think (of the blog, not me personally! Let’s be kind to Rita, please! She has enough on her plate! And trust me when I say it’s not all donuts!!!)
Mmmhmm.
Therefore, dear friends, please share your thoughts with me in the comments below and I will take them under advisement.
We went to an amusement park today and I was appalled at some of the behavior practiced there. Some of the people were fine, and even nice. But, like everything else, a few bad apples spoil the batch.
We first had an issue, with what used to be called the whirligig. It is now called something else, but that is besides the point. The girl that was running the ride practiced fat-shaming. I was amazed when she insisted that the woman in front of me take off her waist purse. Instead, the woman left the ride! Then she targeted me. It took me a while to unwrap my purse and hand it over. This makes me extremely uncomfortable because they are not responsible for lost, stolen, or damaged items. Great!
Not ashamed. Don’t shame me!
It wasn’t until after the ride that I found out that though Child #4 had to surrender her waist purse, Child #2 (who is slimmer) didn’t have that same experience. What?!!! So, because you didn’t like the look of some of the patrons, you decided that they needed to be punished by taking away their belongings, even though the seatbelt clicked over them AND their belongings. What is that crap?
I am so tired of people thinking that they know what’s best for me! Do you know why I look like I do? Maybe I have breathing problems and need to take steroids and those put weight on. Maybe, I’ve just suffered from cancer, and haven’t quite beaten the treatment! You don’t know!
So, stop thinking you know what’s best. You don’t, unless, of course, you have walked a mile in their shoes! No judging!!!
Ok. I tried to find a pic of circling wagons, but this single wagon was the best I could find. Just imagine them end to end in a circle!
Today we circled the wagons in our family. Not sure what I mean? Well, in the old days, well before I was born, (no snarky remarks, please!) families traveling West in the U.S. toward new lands and adventure, would circle their wagons with other families who were also traveling West in their caravan at night when they camped. This formed an inside circle to protect the families from any ill-meaning people who were trying to steal from or harm them.
Today it was my mother’s brother, Chuck’s turn. You see, we lost his wife, Aunt Judy about eight years ago. It was quite a blow to my uncle, who had been married for fifty years to this wonderful woman. In his grief, he reached out to an old school chum. He and Nancy rekindled their friendship and spent a few short years together. Recently, Nancy passed unexpectedly. It was a shock, to say the least, and the loss of a truly devout and fun-loving lady.
Today was Nancy’s funeral. I drove mom the hour and a half drive to the Church where 10 am Mass was celebrated in honor of Nancy. We didn’t know Nancy nearly well enough, but Uncle Chuck did. We were there for Nancy and her family, but mostly for Uncle Chuck.
I also got to reconnect with my cousin, Laura! Shout out to Laura and her beautiful family! We had a really nice conversation, something we rarely get to do, since she lives in a completely different part of the U.S.
Prayers, please!
So, please, as you say your prayers (hopefully including our family!) please include Uncle Chuck, Nancy, and her family.
Today I decided to use up some of last Summer’s homemade peach jam. But what to do with it? I have, on occasion, used baking mixes. Mostly they are a base for something tasty. That was the case today. I don’t exactly have my own kitchen right now, so I have to borrow one to bake. The logistics are challenging to say the least!
Cake mix mixed up.
So, I started out by using a white cake mix for a 9″ x 13″ pan. I made the cake mix according to the directions, just substituting milk for the water for which was called. I mixed up the cake batter and spread it in my pre-greased pan. On top of the cake batter, I spooned about three cups of my homemade peach jam, though I would think that your favorite jam would work well too. Just think of all the flavors you could try; combinations galore!
Add that jam!!!!
The baking directions were a little tricky, since the cake was not originally designed for jam. The directions read to bake the cake for 16 – 19 minutes. However, I ended up baking it with the jam on it for about 45 minutes. Totally worth the wait!
A sketch my dad did for an art class many years ago. It did pass!
“This too shall pass” is something my dad often said to me, especially after another child had bullied me, or even after a tough day. I didn’t realize that it came from the Bible until recently. 2 Corinthians 4: 17-18.
Words can hurt. Spread kindness. Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com
As a child, it was scarce comfort, but as I have aged (and grown up a bit) I find it poetic in its wisdom. Nothing is forever, only God. Why do we insist on holding so tightly to the things of this world? They are only things.
Where’s your focus? Photo by CHRISTO JAMES V on Pexels.com
I like this thought: The ones who make the biggest difference here on earth are the ones whose eyes are fixed not on this life. Yes. Eyes on the prize, people. Eyes on the prize: God and Heaven.
Since May is Mental Health Month and I have been ruminating about this for a while, I just thought I would share something that is near and dear to me. I think we have a problem in this country (the US) with mental health care. Not just for adults, but especially for children. I have seen first-hand the abuse perpetrated by some of the “caregivers” of my child, Child #3, who has been to mental hospitals six times.
I’m done sitting by and being silent. Screw that! What is that quote: “All that is needed for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing?” Yeah. I’m tired of doing nothing. My child was abused by these so-called “caregivers!” Incensed? I was too. Here is the story.
The first episode of Child #3 being admitted to a mental hospital happened when he was just 12. He was a young 12, actually only mentally 6, which I did not know at the time. I had taken him to a nearby hospital West of us for cuts that Child #1 had discovered on him. I was treated at the hospital like I was a horrible mother for not knowing what to do with this child. Why hadn’t I done something? Um…hello? Because I don’t know what to freaking do!!! What do you do when your child is so unhappy that they cut lines in their bodies and horrify you with the blood? This was not just for attention. This was a problem.
Thus started our mental health journey. That same night, Child #3 was admitted to a mental hospital in Racine, Wisconsin, about an hour and a half from our home. It was 2:30 in the morning when the ambulance brought him in and I was told to get into the ambulance in the parking lot and ride over with them since the area wasn’t safe, a luxury I was not afforded on the trip out. Wonderful! This is where you want to house my child? So, I got him signed in, amid struggles and tears. He had never been away from home and was absolutely terrified. I was reassured by the nurses that everything would be fine. They implied that I was a helicopter mom. No. But this is my very scared child whom you do not know and he is desperate for me.
I went to see him every day. The first day, he stumbled three times on the way to the door where I would come in. What? Turns out he had an allergic reaction to the medication Seroquel, one where he lost muscle control and his tongue swelled up. I absolutely forbade the nurses to give it to him again. They administered it the next night. I was livid when I found out. He had even questioned them, but was told “We’re not going to do this!” in a threatening tone. There was next to nothing I could do. They were just trying to keep him quiet so their jobs would be easier.
In fact, one nurse, Anna (they’re not supposed to know the nurses names, but he overheard someone call her that) told him to think about how her parents had died when she was a child, so that she thought he would stop sobbing and shut up! Unreal! This is the same nurse who was so pleasant and loving to my face! How can you abuse my child, who is in your care, like that? She just added to his trauma!
Act out? We’ll calm you down! Photo by RF._.studio on Pexels.com
He was able to leave after just three days, thank God, and I took him home. The problem was, his psychiatrist was trying to figure out medications for him. So, with each new change, many behavioral problems surfaced. He was violent with us. Many, many times the police were called (by us) for protection and help. Unfortunately, this just labeled him a “problem child.” It was even suggested to me, by the police, that I should put him in a home! Over my dead body! He is only mentally six, though he is very tall and imposing.
After that came another trip to another mental hospital, this one in Green Bay. They were not great to him there either, and I could not visit him often because of the distance. He lost weight there and was feeling better about his body, but then they wouldn’t release him until he gained the weight back. He had been overweight before, but they held it over him until he gained it back. Only then was he released. He has never lost the weight again.
There is nothing like hearing the screams of your child down the corridors of your local hospital and know that it is taking six police officers to hold him down because he is in such agony. My heart breaks every time I think about it. They wouldn’t let me back there. He desperately didn’t want to be shipped to the mental hospital. So much trauma. He was terrified. He just wanted his mom. He just wanted for this nightmare to be over. Photo by Daniel Reche on Pexels.com
The third through sixth times Child #3 was in a mental hospital was in Milwaukee. Unfortunately, Rogers would never take him. I’m not sure why. I have heard many, many excuses, but he’s never been allowed to be treated there. So, he got shipped to another one. I think it’s the best one he’s been to, but it still was abusive and awful. How is this helping him? How does this help any child who suffers from mental illness?
Child #3 has suffered enough trauma at the hands of his father. Things most people only hear about on graphic TV dramas. The fact that he suffered more in places that were supposed to help him, just makes me boiling mad! And this doesn’t even touch the group home where he was sexually assaulted by his roommate and made to eat gluten or starve by the head of that house, who verbally abused all of the “inmates.” Yes. I use the word inmates. That’s what they are.
All I can say is “God saw.” You evil, evil people who perpetrate these crimes against our children and cower in your darkness – God sees all you do! Ever wonder why no cameras or recording devices are allowed in mental hospitals? Pretty convenient, right?
God sees everywhere, not just in church! Walk upright in the truth and be kind. Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com
Now, I am not saying that all mental hospitals are bad. I’m sure there must be some that are what they are supposed to be. In our experience, though, we have yet to see one. Please, take a terrified, six-year-old child, drug them, abuse them, and take away all their family. That’s the right way to treat the mentally ill! I refuse to send Child #3 back to one. We will help him with coping skills and his therapists and other workers that we have amassed over the last four years. Never will I send him back for more abuse! It just makes his life that much more unbearable.
So, what are we doing now? I have been experimenting with various essential oils from Young Living and some are really helping him. It isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. There are ups and downs. However, it is so much better. He has his schedule and his people and his oils. It works. I am hoping to try the trauma releasing sleep kit soon. It’s pricey, but I’ve heard worth every penny. I would do anything (Well, almost. Nothing illegal or immoral, please!) to help my kiddos. If Child #3 could release all, or even some of the trauma that he’s been through, he might actually have a chance at a happy life. That is my prayer.
This is the kit I’m thinking about ordering from Young Living.
If you are interested in ordering anything from Young Living, please use my link! Thanks, everyone!
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