iPPP


4
Apr 12

A flower by any other name ~ is not a rose.

My grandmother had a side yard of roses.

Bush after bush after bush.

I have one rose bush that came with the yard when we bought our house.

It was a sickly little thing. But every year I waited for something to emerge — usually the first week in May.

My feeble rose bush would give its all for one bloom. Sitting on the porch, I would watch the days proceeding up to the blossom’s unveiling like the hours leading up to a space launch.

One year I was so captivated by its appearance, I used it as inspiration for a talk I gave to a women’s luncheon at a quaint country church.

 

It bloomed early this year. Maybe the warm weather?

 

But after that lone blossom  that I talked about at that meeting…a funny thing started happening.

For some utterly unexplainable reason — more blooms started appearing on the bush.

First year, it kind of freaked me out.

Then it happened again and again.

Here it is today.

 

The only possible explanation that has come to me over the years — is that those dear women at the church felt so incredibly sorry for me

“The poor thing watches that sickly rose all year long for one bloom..”

That silently or in unison after I left, they prayed for my rose bush.

Or for me…

Do you have any roses?

Well, if you don’t have any outside on bushes, has someone knocked on your door bearing them in hand in recent memory?

 

a href=”http://www.bellebeanchicagodog.com”>iPhone Photo Phun


18
Jan 12

Musing on yellow. And breaking the law

 

I broke the law for this week’s iPPP shot.

Out taking a break from work, I saw this building.

And since my phone has terrible zoom-in feature, I zoomed myself in.

Tromp, tromp, tromp.

This was probably a trespass.

Okay, not probably, it was.

And then I saw something that made the darker, more daring, law-breaker at the heart of my soul walk further down.

 

 

Yes, I couldn’t help but be pulled further into the danger zone…trespassing away.

Me and Tebow so out in the open — we would totally be dead by now in the Hunger Games. Hoovered-up in the hovercraft.

 

 

There. That’s more like it.

 

Perfection.

Can you believe it on January 18?

I captured Yellow.

It there any yellow out where you live?

 

iPhone Photo Phun

 


11
Jan 12

So much to get done today. Then came Tebow.

3:45 a.m.

I got out of bed and already felt behind.

Stumbling in the dark to make coffee, I smelled…

A very bad smell.

Dog poop.

Now I had cleaned up a large mess yesterday. (At this point, I realized I was dealing with a case of doggie diarrhea.)

I turned on the light.

There by the door was a pile. Many sloppy piles.

The first minutes of my day were gobbled up cleaning and scrubbing carpet.

*    *   *

I sat down with my coffee at 4:15 to quiet my brain and reflect on spiritual matters. To draw strength from things which I believe but cannot see.

And as I looked around, what I did see is?

This place was a wreck. I’ve got writing that absolutely needs to get done, appointments with children and exercise.  (For there is always time to exercise.)

Overwhelmed with guilt on the state of this house, my anxiety bumped up a notch with how little time I have in the next few days to get things under control.

Sensing my distress, as dogs do have that my-Master’s-freaking-out-ESP, Tebow came over  and laid his head on my lap.

I gave him some love and got up to pour more coffee.

Walking to the kitchen and looking behind the couch, I saw a glistening pristine lake of dog teeter in the spot I just cleaned from the poop.

 

 

God spoke to me through dog teeter.

Forget it, Jamie.

Forget your house being perfect.

Your life at this moment  is children, a husband, deadlines and a pooping, peeing menagerie.

I hate not being in control. And I don’t feel capable to control much these days.

But I can rein in my emotions. I can chose to love, encourage and hold my children accountable.

I can love my husband the best I know how. Sans providing a nice straight, beautiful home when he walks through the door.

I can write awesome articles and turn them in on time.

And I can clean dog poop….

But that’s about it right now.

How about you? What was the moment that you realized….I can’t do it all?

 


28
Dec 11

Family Run to Breakfast. Musing on forced family fun.

I did something that I may later regret.

I signed my two youngest children up for a 5K. Now it is a 5K at Walt Disney World .

Shameless you might say.

Holding a big-eyed happy Mouse out to get your children to run.

I’m not below that.

*    *    *

Challenge Number 1.

Get Dad to agree to run 5K. Seems he has no problem with thought of sleeping in while I take children to race. So I promised him all sorts of things that will never in his wildest dreams happen (I’m not below that.).  He’s in.

Challenge Number 2.

Get children moving. Since Dad’s at home, I had the bright idea that we would all walk/run downtown for breakfast. Our first official training session.

Miraculously, even with a brisk 39 degrees outside, all the affected (or is it infected) parties agreed. Though there was a snag. (Dear Lord above, why is there always a snag?) Eight year old couldn’t find two sneakers in same pair. SERIOUSLY. We searched and searched. So this was perfect time to face…

Challenge Number 3 head-on.

Forget Perfect. If you or I are ever going to get our families to go out and train for a 5K race (this is assuming you are like us, a non-genetically, professional-athlete, freak-of-nature family ), we’ve got to realize that participation is the win.

Determined to make this happen, fortunately the two shoes he did find — although not matching — were both athletic shoes and one right/one left. So after lacing up the left and Velcroing the right — we were off.

Amazing that of all of us, the my husband actually was most put-together exercise wear-wise.

 

Eight year old in lead, Dad and daughter.

 

 

Example of Challenge Number 3.

 

My beautiful daughter.

 

 

I let her dress however she wanted to face the elements. Tights, pajama bottoms, Hot Hands and gloves.

 

We inched closer.

 

We finally reached our destination.

The three-quarters of a mile to town really took its toll.

 

Making her breakfast selection.

 

 

Taking a nap before looking at the menu.

 

We ordered. And then made fun of mom. Which I allowed. Remember Challenge Number 3.

 

My daughter’s breakfast.

 

 

Grits (with salt and butter), eggs, bacon and biscuit.

 

My son’s choice.

 

 

Orange juice, fruit and apple cinnamon muffin.

 

And mine.

 

Nectar of the gods.

 

 

After fortifying our bodies, we headed back.

All-in-all I think it was a raging success. Only wish our 18 year old would join us.

But at least for the next few months, I can torture him with the threat of having to join us.

Being a mom isn’t easy, but it does have its moments.

 

iPhone Photo Phun


19
Oct 11

Musing on Save the Ta-tas. Save YOU.

“Caffeine really affects breast tissue.”

“Like coffee?” I mouthed back. Leaving off that I drink coffee from sun-up to sundown.

This came from my good friend and running buddy, Kim Sitzmann.

Yes —  dear friend and marathon mama, she also a very handy with one of these.

 

Just like a purdy model on "The Price is Right."

 

And since there is so much pink flying around these days, I took an unofficial visit with her today to chat about mamos.

I wondered… what is the main reason women put off a visit to the breast press?

“People don’t come because they’re afraid it will hurt or they are afraid of the outcome.”

Well. I can see being afraid of the outcome. I asked how often does she see women who come in after finding a lump.

All the time. Her last appointment before I blew in on this cool, blustery day was a 33 year old who had found a lump. She was the second one Kim had seen today before noon.

“Usually it’s nothing. Cysts or fibrocystic changes in the breast, especially around the menstrual cycle.”

Then she got to the caffeine part.

“If you feel something odd in your breast and you are a heavy coffee or coke drinker — back off the caffeine and start drinking lots of water — and see how it changes your breast tissue.”

“Caffeine affects your breasts that much?”

She nodded affirmative.

I asked to see her credentials.

Yup. That's her.

 

Kim gave me my last mammogram earlier this year. A very thorough one I might add.

Morgan Memorial (MM) now has digital capabilities so patients get the same snapshot of their breast as they would in Atlanta, Athens or Conyers. We just have to specify to our doctors we want MM and Kim. :)

I asked about other misconceptions.

“People always seem to think it’s easier on those with big breasts. For me — the small breast is easier. The larger-breasted women, we have to take more pictures. That’s the space I’m working with,” she said gesturing…

 

"If your breast is larger than this...we have to divide you up"

 

I’ve always been a one-shot wonder myself.

Kim laughed assuring me that most women are. But there are women with whom they need to take up to four pictures.

Nope. Not me.

I asked about implants — not that I have ever polled my friends — but I’m sure that’s pretty common these days.

“With implants we take two pictures. One with the implant in place, then one where we physically have to push the implant back and out of the way.”

How important are yearly screenings? I asked with all the sincerity a mom-with-a-blog-medical-reporter could muster.

“Many women come in here for their regular screenings not suspecting anything and we find something.”

“But the main thing women need to do is self breast exams. That is number one.”

Kim advised getting to know your breasts and know what is normal for you.

A few other insights…

*  Baseline mammogram at age 35.

*  Annual mammogram after age 40.

* Exception. If your mother had breast cancer, your initial screening should be 10 years earlier than her diagnosis. For example, if your mother had breast cancer at age 40, your first screening should be at age 30.

* Men don’t get a breast cancer pass. Kim had a patient who was a husband and father. He had felt a lump in his breast for over a year. Finally his wife persuaded him to get checked out and it was cancer. He had a mastectomy and radiation.

Kim made the point if locals have their mammograms at Morgan Memorial, it takes about 45 minutes out of their day. If someone travels to Athens, it might take half day of work.

To celebrate Breast Cancer Awareness month, if you have your test performed at Morgan Memorial in October look at this neat take away.

It's got a nice screw lid, pink bracelet (which I'm wearing) and pink pin inside.

 

 

So be sure to schedule a mammogram if your are older than 40.

Thanks so much Kim.

And get to know your breasts. Like right now, darn it. They’ve been good to you, so be good to them.

How good are you about monthly self-exams?

 

 

iPhone Photo Phun

 

 


5
Oct 11

Musing on a shower or swim? #iPPP

After typing all morning, that little tight stress ball of pain under my shoulderblade had grown into a tetherball.

It was after lunch and I had yet to shower.

If I was going to get wet, why not swim and try to work my tetherball down to a manageable baseball buck-shot of pain in the left upper quadrant of my back.

Okay, it’s not exactly the same as showering. It would take more time and require at least 20 minutes of hard cardio activity.

And as much as my husband likes to claim, that has never happened in our shower.

Even though it’s messin’ with my usual morning swim mojo, I ventured to the Aquatics Center.

Soon it became very apparent that the mojo was a no go.

Arriving at the pool,

Forgot towel.

 

 

No problem. They have towels at Aquatic Center. I’ll just pay a dollar and get one from Andy Dunston, the Director.

 

No towels.

 

I was slightly freaked to see Andy at the front desk. Usually if he opens in the mornings, he’s sitting in the office with his coffee.

But I wasn’t carrying my coffee either. The problem came when he said,

“We are out of towels.”

That messed with my afternoon swim mojo.

With visions of dabbing myself with paper towels dancing in my head, he offered his towel.

“It’s only been used three or four times — just when I got out pool.”

Yes, probably only used when he dove into save a life or or retrieve a lost hair bob.

 

A towel. Who said that chivalry was dead?

 

So with gently used towel in hand, I got ready to swim.

Only one flip flop found in my bag.

 

This never happens in the morning.

 

No towel, one flip flop. This kind of stuff never happens in the morning. But I had come too far to turn back now.

There was one big problem though.

No Emily.

 

When I stumble on the pool deck at  6:10 with my coffee disregarding the “No Drinks on the Pool Deck” sign, Emily is already 300 yards into her workout.

Her cute little goggled head pops up right there.

 

Nope. She wasn’t there.

I did all the backstroke of the workout, Emily.

Mornings or afternoons, I never have the backstroke mojo.

Halfway through (as always happens), I started feeling good.

And that’s why I swim.

That's why right there. You see that little sliver of sunlight.

 

Because out there are children and responsibilities and manure. All things that give me buck-shot pain behind my left shoulder blade.

Andy’s towel worked just like my towel.

I swam, showered and got back in the car feeling so much better.

 

Witchy-Poo was waiting for me. The sun kept her coffee warm.

 

Yes, I had raccoon-goggle prints around my eyes and a smile on my face just like Witchy-Poo.

And the tetherball in my back was about the size of a half-inflated kickball.

How do you get rid of your tetherball of stress?

 

iPhone Photo Phun