30 days of thankfulness, except for that nail in my foot.

Many people have listed, everyday, what they're thankful for. Truly I have enjoyed reading all the amazing things that people are blessed with. And, the simplicity of what gives us joy is a wonderful thing.
I have gone a different route. I'm combining everyday into one post. So here goes....
Now, obviously I'm thankful for the common things, God, family, my beautiful children, life, etc...
But, what I'd like to discuss are the things that we  sometimes overlook.
I'm thankful that one of my kids actually threw out that empty cereal box.
Thanks to the person, at Shaw's, who picked up that package of toilet paper I dropped. Truly they knew that skinny jeans are not good for bending over.
Blessing to you, kind sir, for reminding me that, yes, indeed, my children are a handful. Without people telling me this I might actually forget that parenting is not easy.
Cheers, Ben Graffam, for ripping up our kitchen floor, in preparation for the new one. Although, that friggin nail in my foot felt less than pleasant.
Kudos Gretchen, for informing me that, I do have a lot of gray hair, when my roots come in. Funny, I just thought it was a lighter shade of a non existent color.
And, yes Molly, I appreciate you telling me everyday that I have a butt for a gut. You know how I adore butt guts.
I'm thankful that every.single.day.of.my.life. I have one kid tell me that the supper is gross.
Thank you to the woman who cut me off at the store, forcing me to trip over a pair of shoes that someone left in the aisle. Which, in return caused me to bounce off of the bra rack. I love chain reactions.
And while we're at it....thanks to whichever kid left a slab of butter on the kitchen floor, which caused me to do the splits, and rip my favorite sweats.
Oh, and thanks for the 30 minutes a laughter that followed.
I'm very thankful for rice pudding. It's pudding with rice in it. What's not to be thankful for.
I'm thankful for the following-Netflix, Hulu, Pandora, and Candy Crush. All in that order.
A shout out to my friends, family included. Sometimes you annoy me, mostly I miss you, and always I love you. You should be thankful for that.
An exceptional thanks for the person who created Walmartians. If you don't know it, look it up. You'll be thankful you own a belt. Trust me.
Thanks to that1,000 year old dinosaur who pulled out in front of me and made me almost hit a squirrel. I firmly support the idea that you'll get yours!
Thank you Hallmark for playing Christmas movies 1 month before December starts. I look for new ways to torture my kids, and this was the jack pot!
Dearest Hazel, my true gratitude for you popping me in my eye with your Nunchuks. I loved watching people squirm when I told them I had pink eye.
Thank you, Molly, for telling your teacher that I wear pull up for my bogina. That was fun to clear up.
Thank you Seamus for being you.
Thank you Gretchen for never letting anyone fool you. And for also telling that boy that I was going to send a threatening letter to the principal, about him. I love threats. Threats are fun.
Thank you Molly for telling it how it is. You like me, you don't. You love me, but I smell weird. I get that.
Thank you Hazel for giving me a break from buying girl toys. And for seeing the faces on people when they find out that the kid behind the Batman mask is, indeed, a very pretty little girl.
Everyday I'm thankful for something. Be it funny, realistic, or humbling. Everyday I count my blessings, and thank my maker for them. I pray for those who aren't as blessed-atleast not in the same ways.
I'm truly thankful that life has brought me here. I love my family, even if, at times, we're completely dysfunctional, unconventional, and non conformal.
And finally what I'm most thankful for......Thanksgiving dinner.
C'mon you all know you are, too!
Happy Thanksgiving! May your bounty be full, your bird be fully cooked, your wine and beer be flowing, and your chocolate cream pie taste almost as good as mine.

Cheerleading through a tsunami.

Usually I blog about my children. After all, that's the main reason I started this blog. But sometimes a mama has to simply blog about herself. This is a very serious issue that I struggle with, and I thought I would share it. Only I'll add a pinch of humor and a dash of insanity, and call it me.
Anxiety. It's no joke. It takes over your life, and binds your happiness with unbreakable chains. It grabs a hold of you and consumes you with a paralyzing fear. It sends you running to the doctor's every time you get the hiccups, and has you running around your backyard, like you're a beheaded chicken. You find it hard to function and to cope, with any piece of reality, in front of you. Your heart races, you get dizzy, tingling, numb. And then you remind yourself what it is, and poof! It's gone! And this is me. My name is Carey Graffam, I'm 36 years old, and I have suffered 1,692 heart attacks, 963 strokes, 836 aneurysms throughout my body, and countless other illnesses and diseases.....in my mind. On the outside, usually, I look completely normal. On the inside I look and act like Stuart Smalley taken hostage by the Grim Reaper. Sure I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it people like me. But, what does that even matter? My impending doom is lurking around the corner. I have a helpless feeling of gloom. And I succumb to it constantly. I'm like Eeyore on steroids. I don't have a rain cloud over my head. I have a massive tsunami hanging over me, and at any moment...BAM! It's going to wash me into the abyss of pulse and circulation checking. Why am I this way? Who knows. I have had more testing than a rat in a cosmetic's lab, and yet I'm never satisfied. And that's only because these doctors, who have gone to school for years, and treated people, for even more years, know absolutely nothing. Obviously. I mean seriously? You can't even diagnose that, not only do I have heart disease corroding my heart, but I also have 18 forms of cancer? I am a proficient at this. I know what I'm talking about. I have read millions of Yahoo questions and answers, and have diagnosed myself on WebMD for alot longer than these people have been doctors. Those 30 echo-cardiograms mean nothing to me. I know what I feel....I'm feeling it, dammit! I am the poster child for hypochondriacs anonymous. If it's out there, I feel it. I can't even skim the newspaper, and see an article for heart medication without getting palpitations. This is my life. It's frustrating and hilarious at the same exact time. Because the truth is that I am a perfectly healthy woman, which is the frustrating part. And I work myself up, for absolutely no reason, and make it so bad, I'm crawling on my hands and knees telling my son to call for an ambulance-and the sad part....they know me by name. So, at this point, I have decided that I should be laughing at this. Why not. I am who I am. I am that woman who goes to the store, gets sweaty hands, and has to look in the mirror to a) check her pupils for dilation, and b) pep talk herself down. I have become my own cheerleader. "You're okay Carey! You are wonderful and healthy! You got this girl! You got this!" I am me. I am the 40 million who suffer from this debilitating disorder. Will it ever change? Who knows. But one thing that I do know....I am like almost every other person in the room. But the difference is that I can laugh about it, while checking my heart rate. I can smile while paralyzed on my entire left side. And I can cope, because I'm smart enough, I'm beautiful enough, and gosh darn it people like me.