My Worried Face

The title of my blog, My Worried Face, is taken from a sort of bit that my husband, Tom, and I do. He is a Sergeant First Class in the United States Army, and I could not be more proud of him! Because of his job, work ethic, and dedication to his soldiers, he often works long hours. Sometimes he works 14 hour days (or longer,) and sometimes he gets texts or calls in the middle of the night, and on occasion, has to leave in the middle of the night to deal with, take care of and/or resolve issues within his unit. So, when he says, "I won't be home until 2030 (8:30pm) maybe later." I look at him, give him a goofy grin and say, "THIS is my worried face," and giggle. I know he is here, he is stateside, he is safe. And, that's all I need to know. He will be home when he gets home. I'll make dinner, get Alex ready for bed, take Ginger out for a walk, give Harley a treat, FaceTime with Sean, and Tom will be home when he gets here. It might seem rough, and yeah, sometimes it sucks, but it could be worse. A lot worse. And, that's why I say, "THIS is my worried face." 

Definitely not a worried face! This guy gets it, and for that, I love him.

The phrase has also come from experiences with my kids. My oldest, Alexandra, is 13 years old, and quite the girly-girl, sassy as heck, loves horses, Hello Kitty and the color pink. She is also a Special Needs kiddo, and she needs a lot...Medication multiple times a day, a feeding pump, she has seizures, a bi-pap, and a wheelchair to act as her legs. She is also legally blind, non-verbal, and only one of about 40 in the world with her disorder, Tyrosine Hydroxylase Deficiency. She and I have been through a lot together. A lot more than what I will share now, but for instance, a solid 3 month stay at Seattle Children's Hospital, me performing CPR on her (twice), and just the in's and out's of everyday life.

My youngest, Sean, is six, and one of the biggest, brightest souls I will ever know. He isn't with us all the time, though. He currently spends the school year with his dad and step-mom, in Lewiston, Idaho, and we get him during the summer and alternating Winter and Spring Breaks. He cares about everyone, wants to be liked, he's wicked smart, and is incredibly sensitive (he, himself is sensitive, and is sensitive to the needs of others.) It damn near killed me when the judge ruled that he would stay in Idaho, rather than come to Colorado with me, his sister and Tom. It's been a year and a half, and it still hurts. A lot.
  These experiences have shaped me and because of them, and many, many others, not a lot phases me. Some one is going to be late? Ok. You don't like my shirt? That's fine. We have to rearrange plans for work, travel or a doctor appointment? As long as we get to do what we were going to do, who cares. As long as everyone is breathing, and no one is bleeding out, we're good!
It is because of these experiences, though, that I have an extremely low tolerance for drama and bullshit. If I can make it to a preplanned event on time (if not early) with a kiddo with a trach, suction machine, oxygen, food pump, feeding supplies, medication, and a smile on my face, you had damn well better be on time! If, while my husband is deployed, me, Alex and Sean, can fly half-way across the country, board the dog, find care for the cat, locate hospitals in case of emergency, and be in contact with the kiddos other parents, with less than a week notice, I don't understand why people cancel plans that have been made for months, because today is, "just too tough." On the other hand, if those people that cancel plans at a moments notice because of a hang nail, or their kid has the sniffles and it's just too hard to leave the house, I really, truly, and sincerely hope that is the worst they ever know. Because life can suck. The big one. Many times over.
But you have a choice when life hands you a shit cupcake...You can hold on to it, sniff it, maybe even take a bite and bitch about having it, the smell, the taste, or why you were given the shit cupcake in the first place. Or, you can throw that nasty thing in the trash, wash your hands and move on. I choose to do the latter. When something doesn't go my way, plans change or some thing happens that isn't really that bad, I say, "THIS is my worried face," and get on with it!

Not a moment is taken for granted when we can all be together!

Don't get me wrong, there are days when things totally suck, and I want to get back in bed and not deal with any of it. Scary things happen. Sad things happen. In December, Tom, Alex and I were driving around, listening to Christmas music and looking at all the light displays up near the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs. Alex presented with a type of seizure that I hadn't seen in years. The kind where she gets pale, then blue, and sometimes stops breathing all together. I had never had Tom pull the car over for a seizure, until then. That's the kind of shit that scares me and gives me worried face. Luckily, after a long four and half minutes, her seizure stopped, and she was still breathing. Tom got us back on the road and we hightailed it back home, where Alex rested comfortably in her bed with her bi-pap and her seizure mat/apnea alarm. It also tears me apart, when FaceTiming with Sean, 1,100 miles away, he gets sad eyes, his lip starts to quiver and he says, "I miss you, Mom." I can't reach out to wipe his tears or give him a hug. That is the kind of thing that gives me worried face. I have to hope that the love and words I have for him are enough to ease his pain, and to let him know that I love him, no matter the physical distance between us. 

Basically, it boils down to the old cliche of, "Don't sweat the small stuff." "THIS is my worried face," is just my version and my way of saying, "It's not a big deal and most everything will be ok."

How can you have worried face with a pup and a view like this?!?!