I’ve been lucky that week after week we’ve been able to have friends or family here.  It would have been so much easier if we lived in Tampa or Daytona, where we have lots of loved ones.  We have managed the past months on the hearts of those that taken time to come to Georgia and stay with us.

Some have come for a visit, some have brought their kids, some have stayed and helped what they could, some were friendly faces when needed most.

And some? Were good, old-fashioned belly laughs!

Some caused me to cry and snort and do the most unladylike giggling possible.

Jen.

It’s not often I will call someone out by name.  But everyone who has known Jen will know what I mean when I say that this week I’m doing more than my share of laugh therapy.

It’s pretty healing.

Like tonight.  Jen’s three-year-old Z wanted to play tag with the big girls.  Mom wanted her help in cleaning up all the pieces of rice that didn’t make it to her mouth. So, there’s Jen, picking up rice, Z whining that she wanted to play tag.  A no-win situation.

“TAG! YOU’RE IT!”

There was a moment so perfect as Z’s hand energetically slapped the plate, rice SHOT up into the air, and mom realized what was about to happen with no hope of stopping it….it couldn’t be recreated if you tried.

I had to look away.  So did Jen.

We both shook with glee!

Laugh therapy, we’re ALL getting a healthy dose this week.

I was on this phone call and the voices made me smile.  They took away the grumpy, moody shadow I’ve been living under and reminded me that if I wanted to be unhappy I could be.  I had that power myself.

So I chose to do away with the negativity that has been trying to creep in.  I decided that only I could make myself miserable.

And then there are the parts that don’t want to try anymore because of pain.

The parts that wimp out.

I know tomorrow is going to hurt to the point of tears.  It has each time.

This doctor pushes harder and wants more than I have had to give. This is the first time I have come away from therapy in tears that aren’t from cognitive tests.  This doctor makes me curse in ways that are totally real.

It hurts.

Bad.

More than any therapy has hurt before.

It is going to work.

I’m sure of it.

Something inside me keeps holding onto that belief.

It’s going to work.

If I didn’t believe it, there wouldn’t be a purpose for so much pain.

IT.IS.GOING.TO.WORK.

This is where I’m supposed to tell you thing that might be sad.  This is also the place where I can brag when my body decides to do something new. Sometimes this is where I get to share something funny.

Today this place gets a new purpose.

It’s where I plot someone’s painful and untimely death.

No, I’m serious.

The person that is responsible for the amount of pain I went through today deserves a punishment that involves pitchforks and rusty tweezers.

P-A-I-N.

And I have a really high pain tolerance. Dude, I had three babies with no epidurals. I can take pain.

But today.

OMG.

I cried.  I never cry.

This time it was so bad that after the doctor left I let it out a little.

Then I had to make that stinking appointment for the next time.

I managed to have a big weekend.  One of those weekends where you consider going to bed and hiding.

Forever.

With Oreos.

FIRST, I had to get the backup for my laptop because I needed to access some picture.  Since we recently moved the office downstairs, it meant that we had moved the Time Capsule (Mac’s magic) down and I should be able to get to everything.  I am brilliant.  I found the Time Capsule, I hooked it up (with help from my kids because it involved going under my desk), and I waited for magic to happen. And I waited.  And waited. And freaking waited.

It never worked.

Time Capsule, you failed me.

Luckily I waited on Pete and the over-cautious dude had backup #2.  It worked.  It was from Wal-mart.

I am not brilliant, I am a People of Wal-mart.

Then I had to sync ITunes.  With the computer backup it confused my IPod Touch. It is probably all my fault.  I clicked something at the wrong time.  No matter, when I realized something was wrong was about the time I realized everything was gone.  Let me repeat that for you. Music.  Apps I’ve paid for.  Games my kids play.  EVERYTHING WAS GONE.

That one caused me to cry.

Dude.  Kids Bop made me sob.

It took both of us several hours of everything we could come up with.  But we finally got it all back!!

I am writing this post with a piece of tree bark and some lead.

And I promised to never pretend I was smarter than a fifth grader again.