Hello Hello Hello!
How are you? It’s been just too long… it’s inexcusable, really. So much I have missed in my time away. Lovely thoughts, crafts and art shared, photos to drool over. I can’t wait to stop in and catch up on all of your blogs- read those juicy posts. I am so excited!
So, where have I been you may (or may not) wonder? I would love to dream up a brilliant story for you… a story filled with mystery, magic, thrills and of course those tricky Carnie folks. 
One that begins with a stroll on a snow covered path and ends only after experiencing dangerous and eventual twists and turns…
But the truth is, I’ve been here, in my little studio, well sort-of, dealing with life. December was the busiest December for me in history. As great as that sounds, I am not sure I ever want to do it again. We worked around the clock and no matter how much we tried to get ahead to just take a break, taking a break always appeared to be an impossibility. But we did it, more importantly, all on time. We crafted with sore little hands, calloused fingers, nails stained black from antique solution, into the wee hours of each night. My intentions were honorable… each day I would tell myself that when I reached a certain point my reward would be to take a calming walk through Bloglandia. But being the A-type person that I at times can be, the work was just too much. I was forced to resign to the fact that the only casual walks I would experience during this time would be in a frenzied pace from one studio corner to the other. By the time we closed our studio for Christmas, I was burned out. Exhausted. I needed time to relax. I wasn’t sure if I would ever want to pick up another studio tool again. But Christmas arrived quickly this year, and with the Holiday, I was forced to jump into the next project(s). I am not sure why, but Christmas felt off this Holiday season. Maybe I was just burned out. Ah, nonetheless, I persevered and made our annual Christmas Eve feast, decorated, and tried to enjoy the Holiday even though I must admit, it never did feel quite “right”- my Holiday spirit a little forced. The days that followed I could lie and say were blissful, but there was much going on. Bliss was certainly not the strongest emotion during my Holiday break.
Right before we closed the studio we received word that my son’s educational situation would surely take a turn for the worst- something that we had hoped could be negotiated and corrected without escalating. What had been promised, taken away, ignored, and not followed through, forced us to take action against my son’s school. We thought we had made a compromise, as stated to us by a school administrator, to only receive word weeks later that what was said to us was nothing more than a lie- a lie that we made up, of course. We found ourselves in a position of despair, alone, concerned for our son- his education, let alone his welfare within class, and left to fight a system that many parents cannot fight for fear, intimidation, lack of resources, expenses. We made the choice to fight and haven’t backed down no matter what forms of intimidation have been thrown our way, and trust me, they have certainly tried to intimidate. It hasn’t been easy, pretty, or unemotional to say the least. It’s been a taxing experience that I am certain will span over many more months. At times I have found this situation has chipped away at my soul, other times I am so enraged that I could scream to whomever would stand there long enough to tolerate a verbal lashing. What has been devastating to me is how many children with severe-very mild special needs are left stuck in a system that claims “appropriate” education where proper therapies, an educated and creative staff, required services, and so much more are not regarded, if even understood, and definitely not conducted or produced. These children are rotting. They are not progressing, nor being challenged, nor being properly worked with. I will not stop fighting, researching, and have willingly resided to the fact that most of my life will be consumed with my son’s situation, as it should and must be. My son is lucky, he has so many wonderful qualities that can pull him through his challenges. Others are not as lucky and it if for them my heart truly aches. I can do what I can, within reason, for my son. I can’t fight for a child that is not mine, just hope that his/her parent doesn’t settle for what the system says is adequate.
Next, we move into the first week of January… I was very consumed with researching and preparing for a meeting with my son’s school administrators, supervisors, etc. It was during this meeting that I felt my emotions were running so very high- not exactly my normal don’t dare bully me or I will eat you for breakfast demeanor, but more of a snippy I want to watch you burn slowly and I will let you know this every chance I get way about me… as I said, a little off. To make things worse, my face would flush bright red inconsistently as if I just threw back a shot of scotch (which would not have been a bad idea) or was about to cry with emotion. I don’t like appearing vulnerable… so I was off to figure out what the heck was wrong. The next day, I had my answer. A stick with a plus sign… I was pregnant. A little shocked, ok, really shocked. I should have been excited with joy, right? Ah, but this was me. And by being me you should understand that things are rarely simple. I will break things down this way, this post is long enough. Doctors told me the pregnancy was not viable based upon weak determining factors, in my opinion. I was treated as most Doctor’s treat you when you “over educate” yourself and ask significant questions- I was instantly dismissed, or perceived as a potential “problem patient”. I heard the words over and over again for three weeks. “The pregnancy is not viable.” No apologies. No care or concern, not even a vague interest in me as a person. Go home and wait to miscarry. Sure, we’ll do follow-up testing, but the “likeliness of this being a viable pregnancy is slim”. I have said for years Doctors in our area lack bedside manners and each one proves this to me over and over again.
I however, in my infinite wisdom, felt as though the pregnancy was viable. There was not enough substantial proof at this time anyway to say this pregnancy was not viable. The Doctors (yes, more than one) continuously dismissed me citing the first blood work was weak, you should be so far along, 1 in whatever number of early pregnancies miscarry without women even realizing, blah blah blah. I can’t say I was in a great frame of mind during this time. I am a strong person, but I was honestly handling this all alone for weeks. In addition, we were in the middle of preparing for another heated meeting with my son’s school representatives, and this time, we would have the true pleasure of meeting their arrogant snippy lawyer (who looks like an anorexic fake-tanned Kurt Russell, BTW). Then about the third week in January, I believe, I came down with a horrible virus, thought to be strep throat. It wasn’t, strep that is, but it was nasty. We all had it and my son missed a week of school. I actually thought I could welcome death. Seriously.
When I started to come out of the almost-praying-for-death illness, I realized that I was not just sick, but I was pregnancy sick too… Horrendous morning sickness had begun. Absolutely worse than that praying-for-death virus, I begged for death many times now. The nausea was constant and all day. I could not move. I could not eat. I was a mess. I could not talk on the phone, get up to work, even getting into the shower or bath was difficult. Laying on my side caused pains of nausea so severe I swear I aged 20 years. I was miserable and never experienced nausea and vomiting like this before. Somewhere in between trying to figure out what I could ram down my throat for nourishment and not have it “revisit” in 10 mins and laying down with severe migraine-style headaches, I realized that this agony was actually a blessing. If the pregnancy was not viable as the Doctors suspected, then the hormone levels would not be increasing and I would not be suffering so horribly. It was then I confirmed to myself everything was fine. I may not have been able to move much, work much, talk much, be happy, but everything was fine.
It did turn out that everything is ok, at least for now (keeping my fingers crossed). 
All blood work, ultrasound, heartbeats- it’s all good. The pregnancy was caught extremely early- earlier than the Doctor’s tests so everything was off by about two weeks, which accounts for the Doctor’s “concerns”. The morning sickness has been simmering down since late last week and I am able to move, talk, write… I am almost scared to leave the house for fear that I am in a delusional state and will retch uncontrollably at Wegman’s (if you don’t have a Wegman’s I am so very sorry… if you do you know it’s worth dragging yourself out half-dead!), but I’ll get over that quickly. In short, I am beginning to feel human again. I am extremely fatigued and wear out easily, but it beats feeling like I am dying. Ok, so enough of all of this… you get the idea…
So now I feel as though I have reached a point where I want to make some new little (i.e. teeny tiny) goals. I want to get back into a creative swing of things. I want to try new projects- go back to doing some type of creative work. Ambitious perhaps? I am sure there will many times ahead where I will feel like doing nothing but crawling under the covers. I don’t know how much I will be able to take on, especially come this Fall, but with great changes brings many hidden surprises so I will have to wait and see I guess…
That’s where I’ve been… where have you been? I can’t wait to find out!!! I’ll be stopping by soon!
But along with the craziness some true gifts have been bestowed upon the Queen. Such as her newfound ability to poorly mimic the dance moves from hip-hop videos that play at 4am- which is an hysterical show all by itself, if I do say myself (we are thinking about making it a ringside show). Or the improved upon role that her feet now play with little tasks such as picking up items or opening and closing doors- all sorts of things, really, as her hands are always "tied", or what about the Queen's ability to down, daily and in one sitting, three 600+ calorie Toblerones! That's right! Amazing! 
