Mabel’s Labels for everything but when I lose my mind! @Mabelhood

1. Mom: Where is (insert object here)? Child: I don’t know. 2. Mom: Who has your (insert it again)? Child: I don’t know. 3. Mom: When was the last time you saw your (object that shall not be named)? Child: I don’t know. 4. Mom: Do you understand that if you don’t bring (OBJECT OBJECT OBJECT) home [...]

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phantom hands

PHANTOM PAIN is defined many places on the internet. Phantom pain sensations are described as perceptions that an individual experiences relating to a limb or an organ that is not physically part of the body — Wikipedia I don’t suffer from PP, but I do have related issues. I’m not sure there’s a name for what [...]

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what i did during summer break…

..I quit writing my blogs. It felt weird but I decided to take the summer off. Between my health, the kids, my eye problems, summer plans and trips it was too much to combine my limitations with all I wanted to do. I decided  that I had this time to spend with my family, if [...]

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parent/teenager conferences

When Peter and I went to school there was no Netflix and Hulu. Xbox and Nintendo DS’s were off in the future. We were killing ourselves for a song on our mix tapes instead of the instant play on Spotify. We had dial up and one computer per house was a luxury. It’s not hard [...]

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bowling balls the only balls in play

Over winter break I took advantage of my new Groupon addiction at our local bowling alley. I was able to tell the kids to invite a friend to join us, already paid by the fun coupon. I had suggested Nathaniel invite Luke his best friend but he was already going to be on a trip. [...]

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do the time warp again

February went by with no posts. They were in my head but because of my eyes and overall laziness with typing they stayed dormant. I didn’t write about my fortieth birthday, Pete’s fortieth-second went by too. Nathaniel turned 16 (all teenage girls that visit are automatically shot in the ass with a dart of Depo-Provera)(There’s [...]

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blogging on purpose

When I started writed in 2006 Peyton had just gotten sick. I blogged to keep friends and family updated, it slowly morphed into a place where I vented about the horror of watching my baby in so much pain, I could honestly talk about the good and bad of the life I found myself chin-deep [...]

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i want to be buried in my “i love jake ryan” shirt

I’m pretty sure I’m dying. I’ve had bronchitis since Christmas, I keep forgetting to take my night meds so my bp is wonky and Web MD said this strange mole is probable pancreatic cancer. So, it’s been real ya’ll. I can only imagine the lectures brewing right now. You forget your meds? Are you stupid? Do you [...]

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chubby bunny

Peyton found this game we “HAD TO TRY!”  

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this girl is on fiiiiiiiiiiiiiire!

Ok, so *I* wasn’t on fire but I started one. With my wheelchair. In my kitchen. Accidentally. We have a gas stove versus electric. Peter ordered pizza the night before and we carelessly left the cardboard boxes on the burners. Note: cardboard is really freaking flammable.   Part of my wheelchair experience has been to learn [...]

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isn’t this supposed to be fun?

I can’t cut my nails. Fingers or toes, they’re a two-handed job that are beyond me. So, I go and have a mani/pedi. Which sounds great, used to be a treat, a moment to pamper myself. But like anything, when it becomes a necessity some of the joy gets sucked out it. I really thought [...]

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why you shouldn’t write on Monday

There I am, laying in bed, thinking of the things that have changed in the past few years. The thing on my body that have stronger, things that have gotten worse. I think, mostly, of my kids in relation to these changes. How much longer will the weaknesses maintain before they just DON’T anymore? I’m [...]

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playing games in my mind

I used to play MASH. You remember that game from your childhood? Mansion, Apartment, Shack or House. Yes, I would live in a shack with Joey McIntyre. Even with our five kids in a Porsche. I liked MASH, I never said I was smart about it. But in all those daydreams, with fantasies scribbled in pencil on scraps of [...]

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