"Mommy, today a boy called me dumb."

"Why did he call you dumb?" I asked.

"I don't know. I was just standing in line at lunch time, talking to my friend and he told me that I was dumb."

She continued.

"But don't worry, I looked right at his face and said 'OH NO YOU DI'INT!!!'"

I held back my laughter because she was dead serious.

"What did he say?"

"He just looked at me and turned his head and didn't talk to me again. I stood up for myself, Mommy, just like you told me to! Aren't you so proud of me?"

Oh, yes little girl of mine. Always so proud of you.

This morning I woke up and sat up in my bed. My daughter was in my room, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair. I saw her face in the mirror and said "Good morning!"

"Mommy, you look SO pretty!" She said.

That sweet compliment from my daughter made me feel so good.

"Really?" I said.

"Yes!" She responded.

What a nice thing to hear first thing in the morning. I definitely do not feel pretty when I wake up with my puffy face and my messy hair.

She wasn't finished with her compliment.

"You look prettier than a rat. Because you know how rats look kind of scary and evil? You definitely look prettier than a rat."

She wasn't trying to be funny. She wasn't trying to be mean. She was simply stating a fact. I am prettier than an evil, scary rat.

If only every day could begin with such an awesome compliment.

Yesterday I watched a birthday video made for a friend of my parents. Towards the end of the video, my Grandmother appeared to give her birthday message.

Seeing her face, hearing her voice, took my breath away.

I began to cry.

I couldn't stop crying.

And I'm crying again as I type this.

I'm going to write through it.

Writing. Crying. Crying. Writing.

I miss her.

I miss her voice, I miss her face. I miss her yelling at me. I miss her complaining about how technology is ruining the world. I miss her scolding me for not going to church. I miss her telling me I buy my daughter too many shoes. I miss calling her to ask for cooking advice. I miss her ABC soup. I miss talking to her while she knitted booties for kids in orphanages. I miss the way she used to answer the phone. I miss her telling me the story of how one time I got completely naked and ran through the sprinklers in her front yard. I miss her asking how Tony's job was going. I miss her telling me how much my Grandpa loved me. I miss hearing her talk about how much her dad loved her.

I miss everything about her.

I'm angry that her last days on this earth were spent suffering with pain while cancer poisoned her insides. I'm angry that I didn't know that the cancer would take her so quickly. I'm angry she suffered so greatly in her life, miscarrying twice, burying two adult children, and oh, so much more. I'm angry that her suffering would continue in the last days of her life.

Cancer? Really, God? My Grandma spent her entire life serving you, serving others. She was selfless in every sense of the word. She worked hard, every day of her life, caring for others, for a sick husband. She trusted in you, she loved you, she honored you. I never once heard her complain, NOT ONCE. She only spoke of your goodness, your mercy, your love. Even as the cancer was taking over her body and she was in obvious pain, she never once cursed your or questioned you. Well, I'm questioning you. I'm telling you that I don't understand this "plan" my grandmother spoke. Why would you plan such an awful ending for your good and faithful servant? Help me understand.

The experience of watching my Grandmother die has changed me. One day, I'll write about it because I need to write about it.

But for now, I need to remember her before the cancer, before she was bound to a chair and a hospital bed and a tank of oxygen.

Her kind soul.

Her loving hands.

Her beautiful voice.

Her wise words.

I don't want to forget a single thing about her or the moments we shared while she was alive.

There are certain foods that take me back to my childhood: tuna from a can, tortillas with ketchup, bologna sandwiches, egg sandwiches and Chef Boyardee ravioli.

(Materials: unfinished wood frame (Michael's $1.00) Martha Stewart Craft Paint (Holly Berry, pearl.) Painted wood accents (Michaels, .99 each.) White paint for polka dots, tacky glue.)

Tonight me and my daughter did a few Valentine's Day crafts.

This one found on Disney Family Fun is so simple, but so fun. I thought I'd share how Gabby's turned out.

I bought pre-cut heart shaped foam because I am a lazy crafter.

So easy, Gabby could do it all by herself. Which of course, makes it my favorite craft ever.

What the back looks like.

Happy girl, adorable rings. Crafting WIN!

One thing I tend to do when I'm feeling low is isolate myself from friends and family. I don't want people to see me when I'm down and my eyebrows are bushy and my roots are gray because I haven't been taking care of myself. It's really the worst thing I can do when I feel this way. And yet, I do it.

So, last night I made a date with a friend to meet for coffee this morning.

I had a great time catching up with her, just being out of the house. (I wish I could say "not wearing my black sweats" but I was totally wearing my black sweats. Baby steps.)

It was exactly what I needed.

When I got home, I was feeling good, better than I've felt in days. My daughter greeted me at the door. "Hi Mommy! There's a surprise for you on the table."

I walked over to the kitchen table. There was a plate of fruit with a handwritten note.

Today was a good day.

I'm struggling. I'm in a bad place. I'm in a funk. I'm not feeling like myself. I'm not taking care of myself. I miss my Grandma. I can't seem to snap out of it. I've probably gained more weight, but I don't know for sure because I refuse to get on the scale. I've gone for runs, I've gone for walks, I've gone to the gym. But inconsistently. I've not been eating enough vegetables, nor have I been eating enough fruit, nor have I been drinking enough water. I feel sad sometimes. I feel lonely sometimes. I feel like a failure sometimes. I feel like "I can snap out of this!" sometimes. And I do snap out of it sometimes, only to fall right back into "it." Am I depressed again? Is my thyroid out of whack again? Probably not, but maybe? I should go have those tests done that my endocrinologist ordered back in October, but I don't have the time or motivation to do it. Same is true for my hair, my eyebrows, my nails.

I'm a mess.

I'm ashamed.

And that is why I've not been able to write here, because I hate that this is my truth at this moment.

Last night, a friend posted a link on twitter asking for help for a special little boy in her life. I clicked on the link and read this post.

Go read it. I'll wait.

I cried. I couldn't stop thinking about it all night.

Today, I read that post to my daughter. As I was reading it, I started to cry again. When I was finished, I looked at my daughter. She had tears in her eyes.

A few minutes later, she handed me this.

I'll be mailing it first thing tomorrow morning.

I hope you'll take a few minutes to do the same and help make his last birthday the best birthday he ever had.

(Hurts to type that.)

The last time I wrote about my health I had just completed six weeks of boot camp. (One of the best things I've ever done for myself!) I was feeling strong, fit, capable of doing anything I put my mind to! I was on my way to my goal weight and to being my healthiest self.

I was so proud of myself, not for the weight loss, but for my dedication and hard work. For making my health-- myself-- a priority.

Just after I finished up boot camp, life got a bit complicated. There was a new job with new hours that caused a shift in our daily schedules, making it difficult for me to find time for exercise. I dealt with the emotional trauma of watching my Grandmother die from Asshole Cancer. The time issue caused a grocery shopping issue which caused a Eating Too Much Fast Food Issue, which caused a Feel Like Crap and Gained Sixteen Pounds Issue.

Sixteen pounds is a lot of weight. The weight gain is evident, clothes don't fit, my body looks different. But more importantly, and the thing that bothers me the most is how unhealthy I feel physically.

Why did I allow this to happen to myself? I have an auto-immune disease. Eating right and staying physically active are both vital to my overall well being. I know this and yet?

Sixteen pounds.

I'm struggling to rebound from this personal health set back. I feel shame for failing, for letting this happen. I know that getting back on track will be a matter of taking small, practical steps (going grocery shopping weekly, planning meals, setting a specific time to workout every day.) And yet, I feel so overwhelmed, questioning whether it's possible to get back to that Good Place of health and happiness again.

One day at a time, I tell myself. One day at a time.

(Because GOD FORBID they take Christmas pictures seriously.)

When my Grandpa passed away, the family decided it was best that my Grandma sell her house and move in with my parents. When I spoke to her about the possibility of moving in with my mother, she expressed hesitation.

"I don't want to be a burden to your mother. My mother lived with me for years before she died and I know how hard it was to take care of her. I don't want to put that burden on your mom."

That's how my Grandma was. She never wanted to burden anyone in any way. She just wanted to take care of everyone and make sure everyone else was happy. I can honestly say I never once heard her complain about her life or hardships. And believe me, she had many.

She did end up moving in with my mother and it was the best decision she could have ever made. She had an amazing three years. She started attending my parents church, she made many friends-- spent her day visiting people from the church, holding bible studies at my mom's house and even visiting convalescent homes to minister to the people there.

Everyone loved having my Grandma around.

But no one loved her more than her grandchildren.

Any time Gabby would spend time at my mom's house, the first thing she would do was run to her Oma's room. She would lay on the bed while my Grandma knitted. My Grandma would tell her stories-- mostly about when I was a little girl. My mom said she wouldn't leave her room. She loved being around her, listening to her stories, or singing her songs.

The day before my Grandma passed away from cancer,we spent the entire day with her, in her bedroom. She wasn't awake, but we explained to the kids that she could hear what they were saying. So, they sang songs to her, drew pictures for her, they told her their favorite memories with her. It was heartbreaking, beautiful.

After Oma passed away, I sat Gabby down to tell her the news.

I expected her to burst into tears, but she didn't.

"I feel so sad, but I don't feel any tears, mommy."

I told her that she didn't have to cry. That Oma knew she loved her and that's all that mattered. '

***

A couple of days ago, Gabby climbed into bed with me early in the morning. She buried her face into my chest and started to cry.

"What's wrong, baby girl?"

"I miss Oma so much!"

I held her close to me and cried with her.

The past few days, there is a sadness in her eyes. More than a month has passed and the reality is finally sinking in. She will never see her Oma again. And she misses her deeply.

Last night, she told me that she was going to write a letter to Oma, just like she did for Opa. She asked me how to spell Oma's last name because she wanted to be sure that God knew which Wilma the letter was for when he gave it to her in heaven.

She asked if we could send the letter to heaven with balloons. I told her we absolutely could and would.

After school this afternoon, we stopped by a local party supply store and I let her pick out five balloons. She carefully chose each balloon.

"I want a black and white polka dot one because it looks like a shirt she used to wear to church. I want some with hearts because hearts stand for love and I loved her..."

When we returned home, we got the letter and headed outside.

We took a walk to the horse trails.

She found the spot where she wanted to let the balloons go.

Before she let go, she said a few heartfelt words to Oma. Then, she looked up to the sky and just let go.

I knelt down to hug her as we watched the balloons float away. She held onto me as we watched. As we walked away, we both kept our eyes glued to the sky. I held her hand and we walked slowly back home.

I told her that what she had done for her Oma truly touched my heart.

She looked at me and said these exact words.

"Mom, I just had to let go. I had to do it for my own freedom. Now, I feel entire joy!"

When we arrived home, she sat down in the driveway and watched until she couldn't see the balloons anymore.

I should have titled my last post "Sometime Next Week." I'm such a jerk. I'm sorry for leaving you hanging.

Today my daughter brought home a beautifully wrapped gift with the most thoughtful note attached. I opened it up and found a hand made ornament.

I am a sucker for hand made ornaments. I've made them with my children throughout the years and they are by far my favorite decorations on the Christmas tree each year.

This ornament was particularly adorable-- snowmen made out of her little hand print.

"This is adorable, G!" I said. "I absolutely love it and can't wait to put it on the tree!"

I asked her to tell me how she made it because I would love to share the idea with my friends.

"Can I help you write it and put it on your Joy Unexpected?" She said.

(How does she know about my Joy Unexpected? And has she told my parents about my Joy Unexpected? Must investigate this further.)

I told her that I thought it would be wonderful if she would share how she made the ornament with all of my friends on my Joy Unexpected. So, we sat down at my computer and I typed while she talked.

"First, you need to tell them the ingredients."

• Clear, plastic ornament
• White paint
• Black and orange markers. A brown marker too if you want.
• Blue straight, shiny ribbon
• Gold ribbon

First- We painted our hands with white paint. Then we put our hand print carefully on the ornament.

Second: We drew the eyeballs on the five fingers to make them look like snowmen.

Third: We drew an upside-down carrot nose with orange marker

Fourth: We drew the mouth with little dots and buttons with a black marker.

Fifth: We added arms with brown or black marker and added a hat with a black marker.

After it dried all the way, we added blue ribbon to the inside of ornament. Then we tied a ribbon at the top to hang it from the tree.

Oh! Don't forget to sign your name at the bottom!

I think I am ready to start blogging regularly again.

I just needed to put it in writing, here, for all eight of you to read.