He's not pregnant.

So, when you start a new blog, the way to get followers is to post regularly and predictably, so I've been told.  I guess it's a good thing I wasn't banking on growing a huge following.  I've been gone for a while, and I'd like to fill you in.

To "make a long story short" I'll summarize the back story by just saying that Snuggs had been having some minor, but curious and concerning health issues that were sort of stacking up over our five years together.  We tried to get answers from our general care provider, but were pretty much shut down.  Our main concerns began with inexplicable weight gain and inability to lose any weight at all, despite significant lifestyle changes.  When he asked for a blood workup to check thyroid and metabolic hormones, our former care provider suggested he download a fitness app onto his smartphone.  Notice, I said former care provider.

After the first visit with our new care provider, Snuggs was sent for blood work.  The results that came back were concerning to our doctor, and she needed some follow up information from additional blood work before she could be certain what was going on.  A few days later she called Snuggs in to go over the results.  Due to some scheduling conflicts, it just didn't work for me to go with him.

When he came home, he set the lab results on the counter and told me that he had to run to the restroom, but would be right back to talk to me about what the doctor had said.  I picked up the papers and started reading through them.  I have absolutely zero medical background, but I have birthed two babies and worked as a birth doula for nearly a dozen families.  So, I was shocked to see lab results that made it look like my husband was pregnant, I'm talking third trimester hormone levels.  The more I read, the more I laughed.  I was puzzled, and half expecting him to come around the corner and tell me when he was due.  I had several really bizarre thoughts running through my head regarding the pending adoption, my "pregnant" husband, and just how strange God's sense of humor is.

When he came back in the room I was chuckling.  It wasn't full on laughter, because I was nervous, but mostly I was expecting him to say something relatively insignificant and strange enough to be a bit comical.  I asked him, "Are you going to tell me you're pregnant?" and he looked at me like I was seventy-five types of stupid.

"No.  I'm not pregnant.  But I'm glad you seem to be taking this well so far.  Come here."

And he stood me in front of him around the corner of our kitchen where Cricket, watching a show on the tablet around the corner wouldn't see me.  (Thankfully Buttercup was napping.)

He put his hands on my shoulders.  And I held my breath, because I could just barely sense something "off" in my steady as stone cop.

"Babe, the doctor is pretty sure I have a brain tumor."

And then

 I

couldn't

breathe.








Well, I could breathe in, but not out.

So I inhaled these short, stuck feeling breaths,

and I buried my head in his chest, and I held on for dear life.

I squeaked the tiniest squeaks as I wrestled to keep the pain contained enough that I wouldn't terrify my son.

And this repeated in my mind over and over:

"GOD, I LOVE HIM.  I NEED HIM.  I NEEEEEEED HIM"

Snuggs said, "Do you want me to finish?"

I shook my head no, and he let me stay buried in his chest a while longer.  Then he pulled me back enough to be able to see my face, looked at me, and said, "She says it's probably benign."

...like that was supposed to bring me some big relief...

I walked out the door to the garage and vomited.

He told me he didn't know what to do.

"You ask the God who made every cell in your body to heal you completely.  You beg Him.  And after you are done with that, you do it again, and again, and again, with everything you have." I said.

Then Snuggs went to the back yard and started "raking leaves," which was really just moving around some stray foliage at the back end of our yard because he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

I got on the phone, immediately.  I called my Christian Momma Mentor and cried, and she prayed with me right there on the phone.  I called my girlfriends.  I told them, through tears, that I had no idea what we were dealing with, but that I knew that every minute without people praying for him was time wasted.  I snorted, and sobbed, and I'm sure I said stupid things that I don't even begin to remember.

And after I had called every single believing friend I have, I went to find my husband, still "raking leaves." And I held him, and I told him it was going to be alright.  I didn't know how, but that it would all be okay, because it just HAD to be okay.

We decided we had to "do something" to get our minds off of the tumor as much as possible.  We knew that otherwise we would just sit around staring at each other and crying while trying to take care of our kids.  We went to the local bounce house fun zone thingy, and had a lot of laughs with our kids.  We were there for a couple of hours, and it was good.

My dad was already scheduled to come that evening because of a meeting we had scheduled regarding the adoption.  Except, instead we went for an MRI of Snuggs' head.

If you've never had or sat in on an MRI, whoa.  They are LOUD.  Even with high intensity earplugs they are LOUD.  We went through the motions and the stuffed my hulking husband into this tiny tube and started looking at his brain.  He was nervous about the procedure, physically uncomfortable, and scared out of his mind about what they would find.  I had no idea that he could see me.  I bowed my head low and prayed.  I asked God for a miracle.  I asked Him to remove the tumor from Snuggs' brain such that when they reviewed the images from the beginning of the MRI compared to the end of the MRI that they would be in disbelief because the tumor had vanished.  I cried.  I looked around at all of the random stupid crap in the room.  I squirmed in my uncomfortable chair.  I cried again.  I prayed some more.  I had NO IDEA he could see me.

He told me afterwards that the only thing that kept him from panicking was that there was a teeny mirror inside and he could just see me from the shoulders up.  I told him, jokingly, that it was a good thing I hadn't been picking my nose.  But I felt regret.  Had I known he could see me I would've been performing for him, sort of.  I would've been doing what I thought he needed.  I would've been looking in his direction consistently, faking a look of peace and confidence, I don't know...NOT doing what I had been doing.  But, I guess the reality of the matter is that in seeing what he did see instead of what I would've performed for him, he got the truth.  The raw, deep love, unmasked emotion, pleading for God to change this for us, and I guess there's got to be beauty in that...somewhere.

We were told that we would hear from our doctor the next morning.

We went home and waited.

We waited.  The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace.  We prayed.  We called more friends and begged for them to join us in prayer.  Noon came and passed.  We called the office several times and got no answer.  Snuggs WENT TO FREAKING WORK.  He couldn't stand waiting and just sitting around thinking about it, so he left me to do that on my own.  What a butthead.

As office hours approached an end, I called again several times, and again received no answer.

I could've punched the doctor in the face.  I was livid, scared, hurt, protective, out of my ever loving mind.

The next day they called with the report that it was, in fact, just what they thought it would be.

Lots of reading, several appointments, and one neurologist later, we have this to say:

Somehow, having a brain tumor can really be "not that big of a deal."

Of all of the brain tumors to have, this is the one you want.  It's not even an *actual* BRAIN tumor, but rather a pituitary tumor.  Chances are that IF we even need to treat the tumor itself, that will be done with medication.

In the mean time, we are treating the hormone imbalances caused by the tumor, and slowing down the pace of life quite a bit.

The slowing down is partially to compensate for Snuggs' lethargy, but mostly because this sort of thing really makes you re-evaluate and spend time on what actually matters.


For us, right now, Dave Ramsey doesn't actually matter.  What matters is tickle fights, and family walks, and date night, and building awesome train tracks, and reading books with laps full of babies and lots of funny voices, and prayers, and hugs, and lots of goodnight kisses.

Blasted Can Opener-January $ Update

I had hoped Snuggs would write this portion, but as we are nine days into February, and he hasn't had a spare minute due to over time, work details, ceremonies, and a promotion, I figured I'd better just go ahead and get it taken care of.

We paid almost $2500 extra on our cars in January.

"EXTRA"

Someone asked me if we have that kind of "fluff" in our budget.  The answer is definitely not.  We have usually been able to pay a bit extra on our cars, one or two hundred dollars, perhaps, but not like this.

This can be attributed to a four main factors, I believe.

1)The ding.dang.dong.Dave Ramsey budget.  I don't like it.  It drives me nuts.  It works.  Plain and simple.

2)Snuggs working several over time shifts.  There's a lot of demand in our town for additional security.  He has hung out in the camera room at the local grocery store, walked the floors of a nearby church when the sprinkler system was down and requiring 24/7 supervision, and other random "security" tasks.  If you can dream it up, he's probably worked it as over time.

3)Business is booming.  Our small "mom and pop" family business just keeps growing.  Granted, it's not a "big money" business.  We earn $30-$50 per client.  However, in the first seven days of January we brought in $1200.  That helps.

4)God.  We've written down every single penny spent in January, and it just doesn't really make sense.  The numbers don't "add up" exactly.  It's amazing to hear my husband say, "I can see so clearly that when I bless others, God blesses me."  And that is so, so true.

As much as I don't like the day to day of the budget situation, I love the end product.  I am a saver, by nature.  It's not that I am just yearning to blow a bunch of cash.  The biggest struggle I have is using self restraint when there is something that we actually NEED, and can truly afford, except, it's not "in the budget."

Are you ready for my super lame, but totally real life example?  I don't think Snuggs will ever let me live down the "can opener debacle" of the first month of our final debt payoff extravaganza.  Here's the thing, I don't open that many cans.  We eat three items that come out of cans.  I probably open less than ten cans a month.  But, for some reason we've been going through can openers like hot cakes in the last six months.  I've tried every variety, every price point, and it doesn't seem to matter.  Either I am unusually aggressive with my can opening techniques, or can openers are just junk.

Regardless, we were in the last week of January, and a lot of my grocery budget was gone.  That's prime time to start using the "shelf stable" canned goods that I have stored in my pantry.  Except then the stupid can opener broke.  I knew that we would need the last few dollars from our "grocery budget" for produce that last week.  Our "household" budget had been maxed out because I found an amazing deal on a really great car seat for the baby we are waiting for.  So, I didn't really want to spend the last of my grocery money that I'd reserved for fresh produce on a stupid can opener, and I miiiiiiight be just a teeeeeny bit stubborn.  No way, no how was I buying a stupid can opener instead of apples and oranges.  Nope, NOT DOING IT.  And this led to a slightly heated discussion with Snuggs.

I will admit, I still don't get it.  I don't understand WHY IN THE WORLD it matters if the $3 can opener purchase takes place January 31st on a maxed out budget, or February 1st on a wide open budget, because the thing is, that the budget is only on paper.  We had the extra $3 in the bank on the 31st.  It's sort of a mind game living on a "budget" that is set up to use substantially less than what is available because you are paying off debt.  I'm not saying it's bad, I really love paying off debt.  What I don't love is not being able to open any cans the last week of January because the three dollars that's sitting in the bank is somehow "forbidden" until we flip the calendar page.  Lame.  Lame.  Lame.

Whatever.  I did it.  I survived the last week of January without a can opener, though I did make one desperate trip to borrow the neighbor's.  February 1st, you better believe I bought a can opener.  And, I will admit, I am strongly considering discontinuing our use of canned goods altogether.  I've thought about it before because of the issues with chemicals in the metal, but what's going to push me over the edge is likely the desire to be freed from dependence on a stupid, crappy, junk tool to open the vessel that contains my "end of budget" food.

Yes, I am THAT stubborn.  Or "tenacious", as we like to call Buttercup.  It somehow sounds better that way.

Home Hoppers

From the outside, I know we must appear to be completely nuts.  As if adopting while we already have two under three isn't enough, here's the housing situation...

We own a home.  We have had it on the market twice, rented it out once, and are preparing to move out yet again in July.  What's crazier is that we have nothing against our home.  I would go as far as to say, I actually really like it.

We initially listed our home mostly due to concerns about major changes for the surrounding area.  A couple of months in to the listing we had someone ask to rent it, so we moved out and they moved in for the last several months of the listing contract.  During that time Snuggs served as a Courtesy Officer in an apartment complex and we got an AMAZING deal on rent there.  It wasn't a great place to live.  Just imagine what would cause us to create the word "cricketfrogs."  Better yet, imagine me, 8 months pregnant, chasing said "cricketfrogs."  It was less than desirable, but financially it really benefited our family.  We paid off A LOT of debt, and moved back into our home 7 months later with only our car payments left to pay off.  We also decided, at that time that selling our home simply wasn't going to happen, and resolved to just make the best of whatever changes were to come.

Within about two months of moving back in, we began to understand a lot more about Buttercup's needs.  We actually used our master bath as a nursery for several months because it was the quietest place in the house.  She can not stand the sound of white noise, and hears EVERYTHING, so getting her as far away as possible from all of the household sounds was worth the loss of use of a bathroom for a while.  Over time, due mostly to her sound sensitivities, we have discovered that this house is really just not the best situation for our family.  Pair that with the desire to add another child, and we are motivated, once again to change the situation.

We just concluded another listing period, only to have the house not sell yet again.  We have found a family that is committed to renting our home for three years, at a minimum.  So, with everyone thinking we are totally wacko, we plan to move in to an apartment again.  Snuggs will work as a Courtesy Officer yet again, though the financial benefits aren't quite as extreme.  However, the exchange is that it is a MUCH nicer complex, and we will still be cutting our "housing" expenses in half with no "cricketfrogs" to chase.

The plan is to completely pay off our two relatively new Priuses (Priui?) by the end of 2014.  Yes, we are a Dave Ramsey family.  Yes, we have two relatively new, relatively nice cars.  The explanation being that we run a family business that is dependent upon reliable and fuel efficient travel, and as silly as it may sound, the way our vehicles look really does matter to our clients.  It's a hefty hunk of change, but we are praying that God will provide the means for us to do this.  As soon as the cars are paid off we will begin saving for our down payment on a home.  We plan to have 20% down in order to avoid paying PMI.

All of that said, we don't really know what we will do with the home that we currently own after the renters term is completed.  It is doubtful that we will move back in, although it isn't completely ruled out.  If we are to move back in, we will do some MAJOR renovations to make the home more appropriate for our family, especially Buttercup's sound sensitivity.  It is more likely that we will try to continue renting it out, and if we can't we will try to sell it, again. (For the record, being a landlord(ess) was NEVER on my radar for "life plans.")

It's odd, to be "grown ups" and have such a variable housing situation.  It's odd to own a house that we like, but also can't really stand because it torments our child.  It's odd to have a "plan" knowing full well that it probably won't go that way at all.  We've had enough "plans" at this point to know that we shouldn't put much stock in them.

What we do know, without a doubt, is that God will provide for our needs; that we are commanded not to worry about tomorrow.  We know that all of the "stuff" doesn't really matter at all, as long as we have each other and our God.  But, I will admit that all of the funny looks from our friends, followed by even more intimidating lines of questioning, do make me feel like we must surely be off of our rockers.