Eden's Top 10 What Do You Do When's

This post falls under the category of "Thoughts on a Thursday: Expanded & Edenized Version, v.2"...


...which is a subsidiary of Sar's beautiful linkup idea, Thursday Thoughts (I love you Sar, hope you can forgive me for this one! Haha)


If this post were a tree...


That tree would surely, probably die.


Or maybe just look all gnarly and funky and hideously ugly, like a scrub oak.


Or, it could be like a dry old saguaro cactus, brown and crusty in the desert sun. With a shrivel-headed vulture resting on top...


But one way or the other? If this post were a tree, it would certainly suffer. Probably.


In fact, when I'm done writing it, I don't even know that I'll press "publish." (For your sake.)


But in the meantime, because I feel so much like a dying tree/gnarly scrub oak/crusty saguaro with a shrivel-headed vulture on it, I'm going to write this... until I feel better. Or die. :) Or both.


So here goes:


Eden's Top 10 "What Do You Do When's"


[alternate title:] "When Both You, AND Your Back, are Pretty Much Broke*"


*I know that's poor grammar, but it just felt so right!


What do you do when... 


(1) ...When your gigantic puppy dog (appx 130 lbs) has developed this strange habit of tipping over any and every metal water bowl you can imagine (he chews plastic to bits) with his giant paws, and then he bark-howls at it as he bats it (rather musically) around the concrete porch?


... Ding, ding, ding dah ding ding..."Woooo! Wooo, woo woo!" 


... Ding, DAH dongdong ding diiiinnnng... "WOOO! Woo, woo, woo, WOOH!!!"

...and obviously you can't just go buy him a big, fat non-tippable horse trough?

Sequoia, The Musical Genius

(2) ...When your other dog has suddenly begun to chase cars since the New Year (who knows why? Perhaps a poor, mentally-challenged dog's idea of a New Year's Resolution?)


but if you try to just minimize his backyard time


(because he'll go under the fence; he's like a cat, all lithe and flexible-like)


he just comes back inside and loudly barks 


(it's awful, like a panicked woman's shreik, I tell you!) 


sporadically at the afore-mentioned dog (the giant one) through the sliding glass door because he gets to stay out back on (semi) good behavior? 


(If you don't count the musical tipping water bowl fettish.) 

But you can't afford to purchase an underground fence so you could just let. him. out. once and for all, fortheloveofpete?!!

And that white puffball is Squanto, the car chaser. Does that face say, "I'm totally super intelligent," or what?

(3) ...When you walk through the door after being gone a while and you say, "Oh. Ohmygosh, WHAT is that SMELL?!" And then realize it's probably your entire house?


(4) ...When, then, you look around said entire house and realize you cannot find one truly clean surface (or even remotely clean, for that matter,) except for the pictures you Pledged and hung back up yesterday in the entryway because you finally took down the wooden candy canes ...even though the rest of Christmas is still up? 


And you're good at making your own budget-friendly cleaning supplies BUT you can't physically DO any cleaning, because... you and your back are pretty much broke*?



(5) ...When your brakes and rotors are grinding 


(worse sound/feeling/cringe-bringer than nails on a chalkboard. Am I right?) 


and your tires are also bald and misaligned, in the wintertime in Northern Utah, 


(I swear God has kept the snow at bay this year just for  us; sorry folks who want more snow,) 


and it's your family's only car but - as the alternate title of this list implies - you can't afford to get it fixed, so every time you or a loved one returns home safely, you feel like dropping to your knees and praising God for His endless love and protection?




(6) ...When you go through weeks of planning and preparing EVERYTHING for your sweet little boy's tonsil & adenoid surgery... 


(i.e., take him to his pre-op appts; buy $30 worth of Popsicles and ice cream; make arrangements w/his kindergarten teacher; try to keep him from catching yet another horrible cough; and above all, mentally prepare him, yourself, your hubby, and your other child for it all as best you can...) 


...only to find out yesterday that the hospital wants half of our portion up front, which would be "just $823 dollars and 15 cents" (or we can just call it $one billion$) by Sunday p.m. or you can't get it done after all?


...OR they're kind enough to offer a 20% discount if we pay the full amount?!?! 


(Really, I understand it's just policy, but why didn't I know this yet? Like before I did all that prepping?? Isn't the money part kind of important to the prepping part??? His surgery is supposed to be Monday morning, people!)


(7) ...When - whilst still in shock and in the billing prison/office at the hospital, you call on your HSA account balance and find you've got a whopping $96 bucks in there, and his prescriptions alone will cost at least that much... 


so you have to blush til your ears are bright pink, and convince the billing warlord/prison mistress/poor lady who's just doing her job that you're sorry, you just don't have it... 


But then she looks at you with a combination of pity and (is that loathing?) and says, "No, I'm not gonna cancel it just yet. Mmkay? Go home and talk with your husband. And if you still can't do it, call as soon as possible so we can cancel..." 


And you're like (in your head of course,) "Seriously, lady? If talking to my husband made money spontaneously appear I would go hoarse from all that talking!" 


"Duh."


"And? We'd be rich."


(8) ...When you are driving home from the hospital and it strikes you - really HARD - that this honestly, truly, DID in fact happen, and that even though your poor hubby works 70-80 hours a week he's currently getting paid crrraaaap... 


(because he's licensed but still "kind of intern level" and so, they CAN) 


and 60% of that crrraaaappy paycheck goes to medical premiums and THAT'S. STILL. Not. Enough... 


to get your son the help he needs 


to start getting enough freaking oxygen to his brain at night 


for a normal 5-yr-old, active, otherwise happy boy to be HEALTHY? 


And to not lose any more precious brain cells? 


And to not cause you to sleep with one ear open and one foot on the ground, waking up in an absolute panic 53x a night to run (hobble) to his room and make sure he's still alive, 


because he stops breathing for so long that it makes his heartrate alarmingly irregular... 


So irregular, in fact, that his doctor sends him for major tests?

* * * (...pause for deep breathing exercises, back in five...) * * *

(9) ...When all of the above is hitting you so hard it makes you burst into silent, uncontrollable sobs 


(whilst you're still driving home, sweet boy innocently unaware in the backseat, telling you that you ran a re...) 


and you have to keep your voice calm and steady enough to tell him it was actually green, and then answer each of his hundred adorable, repetitive questions about Nyloks (sp?) and Power Rangers?


(10) ...When you get home and see hubby doing his P90x before work and this smacks you with a fresh wave of hormone-riddled tears because, again, you feel so terrible for him that he works sooo freaking hard for his little family and you're STILL gonna have to drop the bomb on him that Wessee's totally necessary and (to you, anyway) totally urgent surgery is too expensive... 


and so you have to tiptoe silently by while Wessee joins him (so cute! hence, more tears) and you go finish your cry in your room... 


but now it's the next day and - aside from a few bouts of numb resignation and/or being seen in public - you still have not, stopped, crying?


...Even when you dropped hubby at his one job...


burst into quiet, controlled, freeway-driving-safe tears, then wiped them (and half your mascara) off your face...


and then stopped at hubby's other job to drop off some paperwork (more insurance forms, incidentally,) and you literally force yourself not to burst into tears of absolute anguish again... 


and you simply smile at everyone and say, "Hi, how are you? Oh good, glad to hear it. Well, here's that paperwork!"


...Because, after all... 


Thank your dearest Lord in heaven that your hubby has a job. Two, in fact. One WITH insurance, no less.


And also, thank God you have two beautiful, otherwise perfect and healthy children, and one more 


(so far, according to my many ultrasounds - knock on wood) 


like that on the way. 


And thank God you have a good, honest, loyal and hardworking husband who loves them all, and you, so much that he keeps right on going, despite the currently ridiculously crappy pay.


And even thank God that you have two sweet, fuzzy morons (the dogs) who, for all their idiosyncratic behaviors and would-be expenses, really just want to love you, and be loved. And they are oh, so loved. :)


And thank Him - don't forget - for your car that runs, and even stops when you depress the brake pedal (for now, but knock on wood again for good measure)...


And brings you back safely to your beautifully messy, warm and loving home...


Because you've gone without all those things and much, much more before... 


and it really is a miracle straight from your Father that you're even still alive.


So, it could be worse.

*******

NOTE: OKAY I WENT AHEAD AND PUBLISHED THIS, BUT ONLY BECAUSE IT MADE ME FEEL SO MUCH BETTER TO WRITE IT. AND THAT'S ONE OF THE MAJOR THINGS BLOGGING IS ALL ABOUT FOR ME. 


SOMETIMES I FORGET THIS, AND THINK I SHOULD ONLY LET YOU SEE MY HAPPY, UPBEAT SIDE... BECAUSE THAT'S A BIG PART OF WHO I AM, AND I WRITE PUBLICLY IN ORDER TO SHARE WHO I AM. 


SO THIS IS MY BRAVE ATTEMPT TO SHOW YOU ANOTHER PART OF ME...