Some people call it intuition. I call it instinct. It’s that feeling you have deep inside when you know something isn’t right or at least it’s about to go terribly wrong. I can remember a few of those moments over the past few years that have hallowed a pit in my stomach.

The first being the day of my car accident. It’s not something I can explain, but upon preparing for the day and packing up the car, I had this feeling of uncertainty. I’m not superstitious by any means, but something made me feel as if things were not going to go as planned. Ethan and I went about our business of course, packed up the car, visited a friend and her new baby, then headed to Wal-Mart.

I stood in an aisle at the store and debated buying a set of 3 lined baskets for about 10 minutes. My first thought was they would make a great birthday present for my cousin Stephanie. They were her style. My second thought was her birthday was still a few weeks away, maybe I should wait. My last thought was that I may not get them to her. I can’t remember why that last concern crossed my mind as I debated, but I know it did.

Those 10 minutes affected the rest of my life and the lives of those around me. Since that day I have relived the accident and what-if’s in my mind so many times. Ten minutes. Ten minutes would have placed me at my mom’s house for lunch when the accident was happening to someone else. I bought the baskets and even though I was in ICU during her birthday, she did get them.

The next memory I have was the night before Stephanie passed away. I had called her house and there was no answer. I knew she should be home, as she had been the past few days since she wasn’t feeling well. For some reason I knew something just wasn’t right. By the next morning my mother entered our back sliding glass door to tell me she was gone and in some ways I was not surprised. It was a very sad moment, but a peaceful one.

The last one I experienced was today. My arm has been unusually swollen since they removed the PICC line over a month ago. Finally, the doctor decided to have an ultrasound and check it out. As I was laying on a cold table in my bra and jeans and a technician ran the wand up and down my arm and chest, that familiar feeling was returning. Before she even said there is a problem, I knew. My thoughts revolved around a memory of Stephanie that I hold close to my heart and I was concentrating on it, rather than the technician’s words.

Turns out I have a serious blood clot in my shoulder area. The hospital staff and my doctor (who met me there) were rushing around making phone calls, running additional tests and I remained calm. If you know me, you know I am known for my excited nature.

By late morning I was sitting in my family doctor’s office listening to him explain the seriousness of this clot. He told me that the concern is it breaking off and traveling to my heart and lungs causing death. Instead of feeling like life was suddenly spinning out of control, I remembered Stephanie. A similar blood clot took her life before the cancer had time to full ravage her body.

In so many ways these feelings I have keep me protected from the unknown and living life in a state of fear. Instinct is our God-given natural protection. I don’t think it’s coincidence that Stephanie has been the center of these three instances and I wouldn’t be surprised for her to be there for more.

We signed Ethan up for what we thought was t-ball. He is playing on a 5-6 year old team and it turned out to be a pitching machine league. So far he has done pretty well, but it makes me nervous to see a ball flying at him that fast. The parents on his team are going to provide quite a bit of entertainment for us. We’re only 2 practices into the season and I’ve already labeled a few of them.

See this guy? I call him “Hang Man.” See how he hangs on the fence constantly coaching his supposedly 6 year old son (who looks like he’s 8 o 9!) The man doesn’t stop talking and giving pointers and asking his son what he’s going to do if he gets the ball and… Seriously, I could care less how old his son is (who can’t throw, hit or catch), but either sign up to be a coach or sit down and shut up already!

And this guy looks like someone. Can you guess who?

Steven Seagal maybe?

The other night I went to a board meeting and on my way home noticed I had a missed call from home while I was in the meeting. I called the house and there was no answer.

As usual I panic and think the worst. The first thoughts are usually that Nate had to take Ethan to the emergency room. All these bad scenarios ran through my head as I called his cell phone. When he answered and I asked what they were doing, he tells me they are at the vet’s office.

Being the intelligent person I am, I quickly realize that our vet is not open this late in the evening and Parker did not have an appointment. Before I can ask why, Nate explains that our dog was run over by a car. How in the hell did that happen in the hour I was gone?

Apparently Nate was outside and Ethan opened the sliding glass door to tell him something. Our wild dog ran out and instantly saw a squirrel. So the stupid dog took off and went right into the street. Nate says a car slowed down enough that it didn’t run over Parker, but did hit her with its bumper throwing her a good ten feet. Her new nickname around here is “Bumper Thumper.”

Remarkably, she was alright. I don’t know how. No broken bones and no blood. Stupid, stupid dog.

So this is how my week has been going. There is always something going on. Yesterday it was a flat tire caused by a nail. Tomorrow….who knows. We have purchased another house and that means our evenings have been spent painting (mostly touching up things) and getting our house ready to put on the market this weekend. There is nothing like listening to a sander at midnight. The countdown is on. We are truly in the midst of chaos.

All of this and my real life job, has left me a little absent in the blog world. Things have really picked up over at Prop & Pans. If you haven’t been there recently, come check it out! We have lots of great reviews written by a variety of bloggers and giveaways all the time. Right now you can win a Tigger & Pooh DVD or get a free sample of Theraplex.

I spent all day Saturday cleaning our basement - packing, organizing and separating the trash from the donation pile. During that time my husband was upstairs putting crown molding and trying to install a new bathroom sink. We really know how to live it up around here on the weekends. This week my to-do list includes painting and more painting.

All this work is in preparation for moving to a new home in a few months. That’s right, we have found a place just outside the city and not very far from our work. It isn’t exactly where we thought we’d end up, but something about it makes us feel at home.

What I love about this new house most is the location. There is nothing down the road. Just a few homes on our street and hardly any traffic. This means the only sounds we will hear are crickets and toads at night. It will take some time to get used to, but I feel like I’ve spent the last 3 years in tune with the noises that city-life brings. Mostly the sirens that travel out street and the helicopters that fly over our house several times a day. Each time I hear those sounds my world stops and I relive a moment in my life that doesn’t seem to ever fully disappear.

I know moving away will not make it go away, but it will give me more than a few hours at a time where I forget. Maybe if I forget for long enough, the next time I hear a firetruck my mind won’t automatically take me to that place where my life and time stood still.

One of the things I painted today was Ethan’s closet door. Nate had stenciled a growth chart on there before he was born and every so often we’d measure him, and write it on the door. Obviously, whoever buys our house will probably not care to have our scribblings on their closet door, so we decided to paint over it now.

I had to take pictures before I did that of course. What I noticed was that the day before the car accident (7-8-04) that caused all these anxieties, we measured Ethan at just under 3 feet tall. Last night (3-24-08) when we had him stand up to the closet door for the last time he was just over 4 feet.

What makes my heart stop is wondering what would have happened if 3 feet was all I got to know of him. When I think of what has occurred between those dates I realize that hearing a daily reminder of why I’m here isn’t as bad as it truly sounds.

Today my feet are worth $240. I wrote a check for my portion of the deductible at physical therapy today for $140. They sent me home with new orthotics (insoles custom made to fit my feet and support my arch) and a heavy brown paper bag that contained these.

I will admit to you that I wear a size 11 shoe. You know what they say about women with big feet don’t you? They can never find shoes!

What is funny is that the therapy guy who made these molds of my feet a few weeks ago, told me he had to find a larger sack for them to fit in. As if I didn’t know my feet were big, he had to reaffirm that knowledge. In front of other people of course!

It was kind of interesting seeing the differences between my two feet. See how my second toe is longer than my big toe? My grandma always told me that means you are smart. She said this before I failed college algebra 9 times. You can also see that my right ankle is obviously the bad one. See how the ankle area bulges out. That is how it is normally with no swelling.

I wasn’t even sure why they were sending those molds home with me, but I have a pretty good idea of what to do with them. I’m thinking Ethan might want to paint and decorate them, and then we can make bookends with them. What do you think?