NYR: Ride My Horse

Daisy's new year's resolution (NYR) to ride her horse. The first day of the new year we took Daisy riding on Yuma. Every single day since then she has asked to wear her boots and at least once or 100 times during the day asked, "Ride horses?" Apparently she's a fan. We've now ridden 3 out of the 6 days of the year, that's half the current year!

That way Mama, that way!

Mama: Are you having fun? Daisy: Yes!

This is what she does when we tell her to hold on. If she won't hold on to the saddle then the reins will have to do.

How are your new year's resolutions working out?

- FFR

New Year's Day

This is how we spent our New Year's Day. First day of 2014 and Daisy got to use her saddle for the first time. To say she loved it was an understatement. G-Ma and Roy came out to ride with us. G-Ma has a broken foot but she didn't let that stop her. In spite of all our reminders, Daisy really wanted to let go of the saddle and twist around at every opportunity. My little dare devil she is.

Her little legs don't reach the stirrups, even as high as possible so we pulled out an old trail guide trick and used the inner part of the stirrups to create stirrups.

Daisy is on Yuma, a third generation horse. He was my mom's then he became mine when I was a kid and now he's Daisy's. He probably won't be around for too much longer but he is around just long enough to give her a good positive start.

 Apparently, Rocky is a very gentle horse when it comes to feeding This is good for our two-year old. She didn't much like the slimy lips though. Hopefully when she's older, Rocky will be Daisy's horse.

This picture makes me think she's going to fly off the bales in a karate type move.

Little feet, little boots, little girl. Way more than I ever dreamed.

- FFR

There Will Be A Day

With the ups and downs of the last year, the struggles we've faced with Working Man's MS, the many visits in and out of the hospital or the emergency room, we've found it difficult to find hope and hold onto it. It's lead to a great many fights, arguments, and frustrations. Every once in awhile, this song comes on and it reminds me that things won't be this way forever. In words better than I could ever come up with, Jeremy Camp summarizes the only hope we can hold onto.

I try to hold on to this world with everything I have 
But I feel the weight of what it brings, and the hurt that tries to grab 
The many trials that seem to never end, His word declares this truth, 
that we will enter in this rest with wonders anew 

But I hold on to this hope and the promise that He brings 
That there will be a place with no more suffering 

There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears 
There will be a day when the burdens of this place, will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face 
But until that day, we'll hold on to you always 

I know the journey seems so long 
You feel you're walking on your own 
But there has never been a step 
Where you've walked out all alone 

Troubled soul don't lose your heart 
Cause joy and peace he brings 
And the beauty that's in store 
Outweighs the hurt of life's sting 

I can't wait until that day where the very one I've lived for always will wipe away the sorrow that I've faced
To touch the scars that rescued me from a life of shame and misery this is why this is why I sing

So until we reach this day, I play this to remind myself of what our future really holds. Not what short-sighted view I have from today.
- FFR

Mom's Third Eye

Every child of a decent parent believes their mom has an eye (or six) in the back of her head. Now that I've been a mom for almost two years and I've been the mom of a toddler for a year, I've had the chance to learn the truth behind the secret. My mother didn't have an extra pair of eyes in the back of her head, no mother does, as evidenced  by the fact that I didn't suddenly grow an extra couple of eyes after giving birth. Instead, moms know that when things get quiet, their toddler is up to something.

When things get quiet, I know Daisy is into something. Based on where we are, I can also guess what she is into. It's understandable that when she gets older and I holler at her for getting into something when I'm in another room and haven't even looked, that she too will fall into the belief that her mom has eyes in the back of her head. At least, I hope that she does. It will mean I'm doing something right.

- FFR

Roller Coaster

You know the feeling. Your heart speeds up, your extremities get cold, you have that feeling of dread/excitement in your gut as you start to wonder why on earth you've decided to do this. Then you reach the top, have the last moment of utter fear and you tumble down, around the curves, clicking and clacking all the way. Instead of happiness, though, it's adrenaline, fear, and a lot of questions. Thought I was talking about a real roller coaster? Rather, talking about the roller coaster that MS has been.

There's really only three options when dealing with a family member with multiple sclerosis.

1) Blind hope and denial. I find it hard to believe this is an option but it can be for some I suppose. Ignore that the disease exists and feel utter surprise (and not in a good way) every time a symptom rears its ugly head.

2) Believe the worst, always. This is a pretty crummy way to live. It sounds appealing because you're never surprised. You always wait for the other shoe to drop. If you think about it, disappointment is the result of hope not met. In this strategy, you would always be ready for something to happen. Thus, no surprise. Seems perfect right? Well, maybe in some ways but the reality behind living this way is that you are never ever pleasantly surprised because even when something good happens, you are going to be waiting for something bad. I lived this way for a long time. I found it very unpleasant. The loss of hope leads to despair and depression.

3) Live in the present, plan for the future. It's true that you will never know what's coming but you're not waiting with bated breath for something bad to happen. You are prepared with the knowledge of what's likely to happen or what may happen, but you're not pre-depressed with what might happen.

By no means is it easy to live with MS or be the family member of someone with MS. There's a certain sound of resignation I've heard in the voices of Working Man's parents and friends when I tell them he's in the hospital again. They're always worried about him, of course, but it's not the same level of panic as when it happened the first few times. Usually they wait for the explanation and the information about when he'll get to go home again. A few days here, a week or two there. The hospital is familiar and almost homely at this point. We recognize the nursing staff, ER doctors, and even the laboratory technicians.

We went awhile without being in the ER or the hospital and when I walked back in there this week, a lot of memories rushed back and I felt...relieved. The staff has him in great hands. Now if I could just keep the house from falling apart and the dogs from escaping the yard, I'll be in good standing too.