pockets of happiness

Afterword

2012-01-03T20:11:00.000-08:00

Forgot the Afterword to the Merry Medical Christmas! Benjamin came home from his first day back to his day care mom with Pink Eye yesterday. Thankfully, Jason is still on break and could take him to the doc today.

It is amazing how quickly antibiotics work.

Back to School

2012-01-02T19:24:00.000-08:00

"Holiday Break" (because it would be politically incorrect to say "Christmas Break") officially ended when my alarm clock blared at 5:50 a.m. this morning; then it ended again when it buzzed at 6:00... and 6:10... and 6:20... and possibly 6:30, it gets a little fuzzy at that point. The most cruelly ironic fact of life may be that your bed/sheets/pillows never feel better than they do AFTER the alarm sounds.

This will be remembered as the "Merry Medical Holiday." Only not so merry. The Thursday before school let out, Jason had an appointment with the podiatrist and Justin had an appointment with our family doc. His throat had been hurting for a few days (and then some- bad mom, I know). The doc sent him to outpatient for IV antibiotics and fluids (bad, bad mom). Then, he admitted Justin with severe tonsillitis and potential mono- negative test and high WBC, next day positive test but lower WBC. He treated Justin with steroids to err on the cautious side and released him Friday. So, there was the follow-up appointment with the family doc for that as well as the appointment with the ENT, who declared Justin needed his tonsils out before she even fully opened his mouth for her to look in.

In addition to a planned dermatologist appointment, I scheduled for him to see an orthopedic guy for recurring shoulder pain. The ortho doc sent him for an MRI with injected dye and we have the follow-up appointment for that this week. Along with the follow-up appointment with the orthodontist because after not wearing a retainer for over a year and seeing that his teeth have shifted, Justin promises to wear the newly-replaced (and repaid) one to stop any further regression in treatment. While he should have gotten his wisdom teeth out over break, he simply couldn't fit in one.more.doctor.

The day after the cookie exchange, I woke up to no voice whatsoever... and promptly crawled back into bed for the rest of the day. The following day, Friday, though, I had to be "functional" to take Benjamin to CHKD. So, I probably didn't give myself enough recovery time for the upper respiratory infection that left aliens ruminated in my chest cavity. It probably was not until yesterday that I felt I had regained all registers to my lovely singing voice, ha.

Then, Christmas Eve (while engaging in the meaningful family tradition of computer gaming together), Jason started to feel sick. He was kept up most of the night with a stomach bug and managed to recover long enough to engage in a few of the blander Christmas dinner pickingswith our friends, The Good Doctor and His Wife .

Lastly, Benjamin had tubes put in his ear December 23rd. Thankfully, it was a procedure as quick and uncomplicated as everyone told me it would be. He spent longer playing in the waiting room than he spent in surgery and recovery. We were warned that he may be groggy and cranky when we went to rcovery to get him, but we walked in to him chugging apple juice and waving "hi." He did get a wee bit fussy about half-way home on the drive from CHKD but not only has everything gone well since then but I really think having the fluid drained from his ears has immediately started improving his speech and vocabulary.

Cameron was the sole survivor (other than a scheduled orthodontist appointment) to avoid the plague and pestilence that descended on the McHenry household during Holiday Break 2011.

2012

2012-01-01T14:19:00.000-08:00

Trite: lacking in freshness or effectiveness because of constant use or excessive repetition; hackneyed; stale

This is a vocabulary term for my ninth grade English students. I hate a cliche. I will bleed red ink all over a paper warning students to "AVOID CLICHES."

Yet, here I sit. Revisiting the idea of blogging. On January 1st. A cliche.

A few years ago (or so), I had started going to the gym. I went the week after Christmas Break and thought I had got there in between games for youth basketball because there was not one.single.parking.space available in the lot. When I got inside the gym though and saw the treadmill machines were as equally gridlocked as the parking lot, I had an epiphany... New Year's Resolutions. Each week the number dwindled, until the parking ot was back to normalcy (and eventually, of course, I dwindled away too).

So, I imagine today that the "Information Highway" is equally clogged with resolutions to begin or return to blogging. And, here I am.

I don't make resolutions. I don't like looking at a magical day on a calendar, even if it is the very first day on a new calendar, and making life changes based on that. If anything, I vow those type of life alterations at the beginning or end of summer break- The first day of school being the "real" New Year to me.

Nevertheless, some of the things I hope to blog are:

1. New Recipes- Ideally, I would like to make Thursdays "New Recipe Thursday" and try something new each week. I have been saying this for a while now. Too bad I don't live in an ideal world.

2. Craft Projects- I now have a "craft room," or "studio," or "craft studio" (I haven't decided yet) and much to Jason's dismay when he discovered it last night, near 2500 pins on Pinterest. So, I have the inspiration and the space, I just need to find the time... more on that, later.

3. Book Reviews- Someone told me their goal was to read 50 books last year. That'd be about a book a week. That would be nice, but again... time. I won a Kindle in a Relay raffle a couple of years ago and am just now starting to dowload more since I found an awesome website with free or cheap downloads, Kindle on the Cheap. Mainly, I get frustrated that I can't find something I WANT to read (despite my 5 overburdened bookshelves and random piles of books aroud the house- most unread).

4. Benjamin Markers- My great blogging regret is that I didn't make posts each month with pics, milestones, and memories of Benjamin. A couple of my regular bloggers have children of similar ages and I loved that they did... yet, I didn't. Now, though, is an amazng time of new feats and entertaining AND I finally have the means to record and upload, so this one will be fun and easy.

5. General day to day activities, re-caps, ramblings, and musings. (Self-explanatory, no?)

6. Dreams! I have always wanted to journal my dreams. Some are just outlandish, such as the "Silkwood"-esque radiation exposure and treatment the other night and at other times, something will happen that I think I dreamt about beforehand but am unsure if my brain synapses are tricking me into just thinking that is true.

7. Reflections- Although my childhood was the stuff Lifetime movies are made of, I am SO glad to have grown up in the eighties. I feel like my generation has seen the birth and evolution of so many societal and technological trends. I often begin an inner dialogue with "Remember when..." So, at the risk of sounding like Grandma, I should write about it when something sparks these thoughts (like cheap plastic gumball machine toys for 75 cents?!)

So, basically, anything goes!

What I do NOT want this blog to become is...

1. A collection of negative thoughts and ramblings. I am pushed to write much more when I am depressed or angry about something. I am attracted to negativity. It took me a long time to discover this about myself and I conciously fight to pull away from it. I don't want to be FAKE but I want to focus on the positive aspects of daily life and not let the negativity suck anything more from me than it already does.

2. Writing for an audience. I could care less right now if anyone ever reads what I write. I want to write for myself, for catharsis and reflection. If I decide to link-up or mannounce a posting at some point, that's fine. But I don't want what I write to be altered for the sake of someone who may or may not be reading it.

3. At the same time, I cannot make a public rant on people or grups that tick.me.off. It's a small world and even a smaller town, which I need to always keep in mind. So, although I am frustrated by people on a daily (hourly) basis, this is not the format for expounding on that. I need to not fall back into the habit or making posts that I should question whether to delete.

4. Lastly, it would be in my best interest not to announce goals that when I fail to achieve them, keep me from coming back to write- a common cause for many of my blog hiatuses.

I should have known...

2011-07-19T17:08:00.000-07:00

The summer is racing by. A friend made the comment on Facebook about her daughter leaving for college in two weeks and it wasn't until I wrote Justin's running schedule on the calendar tonight that I tangibly saw how quickly Justin would be leaving.

I have not taken those daily walks I had planned, nor cooked much. I have not gone to the beach once and pool twice a week as envisioned. I have not crafted or got the house as clean and organized as I wanted.

I have spent a lot of time with Bnejamin though. He always has busy days, even when I feel like I accomplish nothing.

Benjamin had his first Happy Meal last Friday. Knowing the fan he is of cheese sandwhiches, we went with a cheeseburger.

He really enjoyed the fries. I think he was determined to eat every last one of them, even after they were cold and limp. Blackie, of course, dodged in to grab some when Benjamin was distracted by the box. (Yes, stereotypically so, I think he was more intrigued by the box then they toy inside.) Speaking of which, I am so glad McDonalds went back to the retro box rather than the bags they had for a while.

It was rather ironic that the Happy Meal toy was a light saber. I forgot to ask for the special under 3 toy, but I tugged, twisted, and tested the toy pretty roughly to make sure it was safe. In addition to a "Big" brother that is a total Star Wars nerd, the first time I felt Benjamin kick was when I took the boys to the Star Wars orchestra concert. That was when I felt pretty sure it was another boy. He ran all the way to my closet to keep me from taking it away from him.

Another first for Benjamin was his graduation to a new carseat yesterday. Thankfully, a Woman's Club friend had given me her car seat with some baby clothes last year. I thought it was going to be much longer until he was ready for it because it looked so big.

I sent Jason a phone pic and he questioned how safe it was... just such an adjustment from the "baby" seat. I had taken the car seat in and out a lot when I took the car to the dealer for a factory replacement issue (yeah! for $18 repair charges). I saw then the car seat said for up to 20 pounds and last Monday Benjamin weighed in over 21. So, whether I am ready or not, he has a whole new view of the world.

Fifteen Months

2011-07-11T21:21:00.000-07:00

Life is a cliche, and time certainly does fly. Trying to grasp the memories is like trying to hold a fistful of sand.

Today was your 15 month doctor appointment. You were 30.5 inches and 21.3 pounds. According to the scale you are a little guy, still in the 10th percentile for weight. We're not worried though. The doc says that you are perfect in every way... and even a little advanced socially. Of course, he just doesn't understand that you are your father's son- happy to talk to everybody about anything.

With everything that has gone wrong this summer, the right thing- the best thing- is how much time I am getting to spend with you. You love to run to find me and shout MA over and over as I answer YES or BEN. You clearly say MA and DA. Unfortunately your most dominate third word is GET because you hear us yell it at the dog so often. You can also say "Babbie," most often heard as you are throwing food from your high chair for Blackie.

You also like to take Blackie's toys and then laugh uproarously as he tries to take them back from you, knowing he must still be careful with the little guy.

You like to hold pens or spoons as you walk around. Now that I have let you walk outside more, you like to go around and gather all the little sticks that you can find to bring in the house. You don't have a favorite toy. You much prefer ours- cell phones, the tv remote, my lap top. You also love opening the kitchen cabinets and any drawer you can. The new fascination is sneaking into my bathroom drawers and grabbing the little bottles of hand sanitizer or the glass bottle of face lotion that you are very partial to.

We had to install a monster gate across the front entry hall because you would quickly disappear any chance you got and race up the steps. Now, you have taught yourself how to go up and down using the railings, but it still worries me a bit. Now too, you want to race outside any time the door is opened.

Your favorite television show is Dinosaur Train. We only let you watch that and Sesame Street. You love Elmo and the Flying Fairies (much to Dad's chagrin).

Thankfully you have become SOMEWHAT better about keeping socks and shoes on. If you are going to be in the carseat for a while, the chances are very slim that the shoes you leave the house on will still be on when you get to our destination... but at least it's not a fussy struggle to get them on your feet anymore... and you are much more anxious to run off and explore than to take the time to fuss and fight the shoes off your feet.

Lately, several people have told me that you need a haircut. Nonsense. The way your hair has grown lately makes you look a lot more like Justin- both as a baby and now, ha!

You love to climb! Onto the book shelves. Into your changing table. On the chairs and couches. After taking this picture, you now like to climb into your toy basket. Getting out is not as easy a task. Your newest mountain is the kitchen table. I learned several months ago to make sure the chairs were pushed in or else you would start climbing. Here recently that hasn't mattered though. If a chair is pushed all the way in, you will weasel your way up on it to make your way to the table top.

You are so very expressive. Your facial expressions make us all laugh, especially the way you furrow your eyebows when something ticks you off. You also are very expressive with your hands and because people are so responsive to it, you do it more and more. You "talk" to people with such passion and intonation that it makes them just stop and pay attention to you.

This week just you and I are home alone. I have to get up early with you and have to think about feeding you throughout the day and am always chasing you, closing drawers and doors, singing out "Benny Ben Ben Ben."

This isn't the life I planned.

But it's a pretty interesting one.

Big Deals on Double Coupon Wednesday

2011-07-06T20:32:00.001-07:00

Cereal and Nutrigrain bars on sale for $2.49 each but only $1.99 each if you buy 5. Two coupons for 70 cents off Rice Krispies, coupon for $1.00 off two Nutrigrain bars, coupon for $1.00 off fruit if you buy Kellogs cereal.

Total cost for 3 boxes of cereal, 2 boxes of Nutrigrain, 2.5 pounds of bananas and 2 peaches = $3.20

I did get a few other items (most with coupons) so I won't exaggerate and add discounts for for shopping bags (20 cents) or future gas savings (80 cents).

Cords & Books

2011-06-28T20:41:00.000-07:00

I have not pulled the "Quick Disappearance" act from Blog World, yet again. I just REALLY wanted to be able to post some pics in a blog post. I could not find the USB cord for my camera. Then got, maybe a little too, excited when I (thought I) found it tonight... except it's not working. So, I do not know if it there is a problem with IT or if it is not the right cord. Shouldn't those things be universal? It seems to fit just fine.

An exorbitant amount of my time Sunday night (until 4:30a.m.!) and into Monday was spent cleaning off the 3 bookshelves in the library, inventorying books, and listing them on Half.com. Any book that I could list for $5.00 (or more), I did... in most cases (I held on to a treasured few, regardless). In the end, I listed 87 books. I still have a few college textbooks to make decisions on and some others stored in our bedroom that I need to check prices on.

I didn't feel it was worth the effort to package a book and take it to the post office for less than $5.00. If I can make $50 off sales over the next 2 months, I will be very happy and feel that it was worth my time. If not... then at least I have clean and organized shelves (I say through gritted teeth).

Functionality

2011-06-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

I sign this song to myself most mornings as I edge myself out of bed. You put one foot in front of the other... put your one foot down, down, down... there's work to be done now, work to be done now. Yes, I am a nerd. And 80's nerd to be more specific... and almost proud of it.

I do not want to turn this blog into a catalogue of my daily activities, but for now, just to write, that's what it's going to be. I have to admit, it holds you a bit accountable to know that you will be writing about your day at the end of it. It pushes you to accomplish a little more, think a little deeper.

I did read a couple more chapters of The Friday Night Knitting Club today. On the third attempt, I am finally invested enough to finish the book. Disappointingly, it is setting itself up to be a very trite ending. I am not a cynic opposed to the happy ending but I would just like to think that a book isn't so predictable only three chapters in.

Speaking of predictability, I finished watching The Roomate this morning too. It was yet another movie that I fell asleep while watching with one of the boys. It wasn't bad, per se, but completely predictable. It's like there are no original plot lines any more. I have heard they are re-making Footloose and that is exactly like the originally. Maybe it is because I am old that I just don't see the point in doing that.

I have had the plot line for a novel (to become a major motion picture, no doubt) rambling in my head since I was a teen about a girl that gets involved with a blind guy, and he is able to use that handicap to psychologically manipulate her and any others who then do not want to believe her claims of domination and abuse. Got a lap top, maybe I should start actually writing it. Writing something.

The majority of my day was spent on laundry. Lots and lots of laundry. The entire dining room tables is sorted in towers of cleanly folded laundry. Second to that, I tried working upstairs a bit. We have cleared out all of the furniture in Cameron's room so he can bunk with Justin and I can turn his former bedroom into my craft room. I know how selfish that sounds... but Justin's room is larger than most home's living rooms, he will be leaving soon, and I need a place of sanity. Besides I have these dreams to fill of starting a purses, bags, and accessories craft business. Yes, I said dreams.

My allergies made it impossible to invest an extended amount of time in there. All the furniture may be out but the dust certainly wasn't (but is now). I also started sorting through Benjamin's clothes. I hit some good yard sales last summer and an incredibly fortunate one the other week and have more baby clothes in size 18 months than I could ever possible need. If I do any more yard saling this summer, I will be very selective in baby clothes, and only look for those 24 months and larger.

Those jobs, the laundry, and cleaning the fridge though were all unfinished jobs. At best, it makes tomorrow's agenda clear. I'm in that mode of cleaning and renovation where I have to do A to get to B so I can do C. Mainly, I am working towards getting the various boxes and stacks of paperwork straight, but cleaning along the way to find the space to make that organizational task possible.

I also cooked dinner tonight, a rarity any more- BBQ chicken, perogies, and corn. Benjamin loved the perogies. I quartered them and he would stick his thumb in and dig out the mash potatos to suck off his thumb, and then eat the dumpling part (I think).

The night wrapped up with mindless television and net surfing- over three hours of New York Ink and organizing some of the 60+ tutorials I have saved to favorites... for that dreamy craft business.

Summer Vacation

2011-06-24T19:46:00.000-07:00

My Summer Break started in early April of last year, because that is when my maternity leave started. I left from Spring Break and came back in August to get ready for the new school year. Now, I was in and out of the classroom a lot over maternity break. I sent the long-term sub lesson plans each week, picked up work to grade, and even attended parent-teacher conferences. When I was called and asked to teach Summer School though, I had to say no because with breastfeeding Benjamin and Jason's reconstructive shoulder surgery, it just didn't seem possible. That was the first time since 2004 that I had not taught Summer School. I was actually hired as a Summer School teacher and then offered the regular full-time position. Needless to say, there has always been a need for Summer School teachers. So, it was a bit of a shock this year when that wasn't the case. The class I was assigned did not have enough students enrolled and my summer was given an unexpected month-early start.

I have been wanting to write for several days, especially to commemorate Justin's graduation. The truth is though, that I have had so much weighing on my mind that I didn't know how to clear away the things I didn't want to write about on a public forum in order to share the things I would like to write about. So, this is my second blog post of the night. The other will remain as a draft, just a cathartic outpouring of anger turned frustration, turned grief, with hopes that just getting it out with help me to clear up some of the mental static invading my thoughts right now. I had not planned on it being a series of posts to myself, but there was so much to say about the first topic that I decided to break them down. In a series called "Things that are Pissing Me Off," Part one was- Justin, College.

Today was... nonexistent.

I watched two movies on the streaming Netflix. The first was "Homeroom." It was about the relationship of two (characteristically opposite) students following a school shooting. One, of course, was the pretty, popular girl with the BMW and good grades. Her scalp was grazed by a bullet and she was the only student injured that survived. The second, of course, was the goth, anti-establishment, girl with a secret. The two, of course, forge a bond through the tragedy and relied on one another to release the demons lurking in their scars from the incident.

The other movie I watched with Cameron tonight, "Hackers." I did not expect to be an older movie, but that was obvious by the bank of pay phones and types of computers, even before I saw Angelina Jolie's young pixied character. Wasn't it everyone's dream to be a computer hacker in the 80's? I loved the television show "Whiz Kids" and the movie "War Games," both with nerdy cute guys that wielded power with a computer keyboard. It makes me laugh today when I hear the wanna-be hackers at school bragging about getting past the school's firewalls to look at their Facebook accounts. That is so... 20 years ago. At least claim that you were able to change your grades... or hide a few million in an off-shore Swedish bank account.

I started to read a new book today, The Friday Night Knitting Club . I've started reading it a time or two before and have not gotten past the first chapter. So, I don't know that I will this time either. I just want some brain candy. I am trying to be good about not buying new books this summer and actually shopping from the library of unread books I have amassed over the years. The best book I read last summer was An American Summer, which was a random find in one of the library sales where you cram as many books as you can into a bag for $5. It was about a 14ish boy, new in the neighborhood, who befriends a 19ish girl, who lived in an iron lung in the height of the polio scare, and all the neighborhood kids would come to swim in her pool over the summer, which was a way for her still to have some sort of social life. I hope to find a rare, unexpected, literary gem like that one again this summer.

Other than 2 movies, one chapter of the book, and cuddles with Benjamin, I spent the greater part of my day sleeping. I don't know if it was pure laziness, illness, or just the weight of stress right now, but no pile of unwashed laundry or cluttered hallway seemed more appealing to tackle than the bed.

I do want to be careful not to laze or waste this summer away though. When all the current issues in my life are resolved, and August rolls around with the faint ringing of class bells growing louder in mind, I want to make sure that I return to school feeling well-rested and revived.

Unpainted Toes

2011-06-03T20:30:00.000-07:00

I am not going to bother with making excuses about why it has been so long since I blogged or why the latest reported health initiative failed, yet again... let's just move right along.

Tomorrow is the Relay for Life. This used to be the event that ended the year for Key Club. However, this year, just like we had events booked before our normal kick-off at Fall Festival, we also have events booked after Relay this year. We will be working with Habitat this upcoming Wednesday and with an AR carnival at one of the elementary schools this Friday. This is in addition to the two events I would not commit to because we were already so booked; one of them was a Saturday and I was just not willing to give up another one this year.

I have just now reached the point where I am so ready for the year to end. Usually, I have so much stacked on my plate that I push that creeping feeling until later than most teachers because there is so much I want and need to still get accomplished in the final days before summer break. Well, that point has arrived.

My good friend helped so much getting ready for Relay this year that this is the earliest I have ever wrapped up. Usually there is some last-minute idea that pops into my head that I stay up late into the night to complete... and then, usually decide the next day, that I didn't like it at all. This year, I had input and help and someone to force me to get an early start and to give me ideas how to accomplish some things in a much easier method than the schemes I was cooking up.

Nonetheless, it has been frustrating to look at Facebook tonight or text with a friend and read about the fun everyone else is having. I am in the mood where I want to be indignant and claim to be always doing for others and not myself. I really hate myself when I get in this mood, yet it is hard to supress when it creeps upon me.

I raced home from work today because I wanted to go to book sale at the local library. Perhaps sadly, I thought about it on several occasions throughout the day and was really looking forward to it. By the time I got home though, home issues arised and I could not make it down there until they were 15 minutes from closing. I was in tears at the loss of the opportunity to just wander through a room of books at my leisure and fill a bag for the bargain price of $5.

So, then I had to go to Wal-Mart to get supplies for crafting for Relay tonight and I was about to check out, before I realized that I forgot something and had to get back in line to wait all over again, I came to understand that I wasn't upset about the loss of more books to crowd my shelves but I was mourning the chance to take a break from the chaos that is life right now and do a little something just for me.

There is a scene in the opening of Liz Gilbert's Eat, Love, Pray when she is weeping on the cold bathroom floor to her unknown God asking for his guidance and she distinctly hears him reply, "Go to Bed."

On my way back to the fabric department to pick up the forgotten supply, I passed a display of women's shirts for which a white one caught my eye. One rule, quite possibly the only rule, of fashion in my life is when you see a white shirt that fits, get it. You can never have enough white shirts. So I grabbed one in 4X and in 5X and went to the dressing room to try them on (that will be fodder for another post soon, not now). As I stood, nose to mirror, peering closely at the wrinkled bags under my eyes and the hairs above my lip, I asked myself "what are you going to do now." And, as distinctly as Liz Gilbert describes hearing her response, so did I.

Get a pedicure.

This is where I need to explain that I have only once, maybe twice but no more, have gotten a pedicure in my life. Nevertheless, I bought a magazine and bottle of water and went to the nail salon. I signed in and waited, taking in those who surrounded me. Being such a novice at this, I reprimanded my ignorant feet for wearing loafers when I saw the one pedicure customer being slid back into her flip-flops. It brought the momentum- the plan to get bright purple nail polish in honor of Relay- to a halt.

I slid out of my loafers and I sat in the waiting area and looked at my feet. The swollen red toe. The disformed big nails. And had to admit to myself that I am as unlikely to wear open-toed shoes in public and I am to wear a sleeveless top.

I crossed my name off the list and left.

I got a movie from Red Box. The first time. And picked up Subway for Justin and me. I hate that IT came back to food. That IT always comes back to food. The movie was predictable and being so tired, I snoozed in and out during a great part of it. Although I do not feel that I misssed a thing at all.

And now I sit in bed. After midnight. An important day dawning tomorrow. Upset that rather than look forward to such an important day that I am a little sad, and yes even a little mad, at frieds who did and are going out and doing something fun, just for themselves.

Week 1 ( - 5.4 pounds)

2011-01-31T19:11:00.000-08:00

There is this calmness about losing weight right now. I am not going to try and fool myself into thinking- or pretending to think- that I am trying to feel happier, and have more energy; losing weight is just a side benefit. I don't step on the scale every morning to weigh my energy.

No, I want to lose weight. I'm not thinking goals or even rewards at this point. I'm just thinking that when I wake up in the morning, I have to make the best decisions I am capable of making until I return to bed that night.

I have written down the foods I have eaten each day. Some days I could tally the calories. On other days I could not because I didn't know the counts of some things that entered my mouth. And, that's okay. I still made smart decisions. That I know.

I have been reminded how much a good night's sleep aids good health. In the past, I knew the numbers on the scale would budge less on nights that I stayed up late, as I am prone to do. I see it now on nights when I get up at 3ish and weigh myself. Then, when I step on the scale again a few hours later there is a measurable difference. I guess it is because the body needs to be at rest to metabolize at a efficient rate? I don't know. I might look it up one day...and maybe even make a "real" informative post about it.

I have done well with drinking water. I have to stay conscious of it during the school day because I can get so wrapped up in my day that I easily forget. I have had a soda once in the past week- a canned Diet Coke. It tasted sickingly sweet. It was only after not having one for three days, so maybe that was psychologically influenced.

A couple of days I didn't work out. My fall back has been Wii Fit. If nothing else I will do the Free Step... although it is much more entertaining on the nights that I do the run. I dislike running in place so I will jog laps around the living room/ dining room/ kitchen. The entertainment comes much more from picturing the fool I am from a bird's eye view than the actual activity. I try to schedule the times for when I am home- or at least downstairs- alone, but am proud of myself for not being quick to hide when Jason or the boys come in.

I am going to do this.

When Life Gets Stressful, Make a Salad

2011-01-23T18:37:00.000-08:00

That may be the tagline for my blog one day. Except, I didn't make a salad. But I did eat well (enough), drink 10 glasses of water, and exercise today.

And life, indeed, is stressful. I'm going through a very sensitive and stressful situation right now. It has me very weighed down. A great part of that comes from all the uncertainty involved in the immediacy of it. That will be resolved, for the better or the worse, soon enough I suppose.

I often say that I just need a flip to switch and then I can kick they healthy thing into gear. It may have switched today. It just occurred to me that when there is so much going on around me that is wrong, this is the one thing I can do right. I can control it when there's not a whole lot else I can control right now.

So I didn't allow myself to make any excuses. I took advantage of what I had- didn't put-off for that magical trip to get the "right" foods. I ate things that didn't have the labels to figure out the math. And just... made it through the day.

The thai spring rolls by Lean Cuisine were good. There were very flavorful and it lingered. I didn't realize, or had long since forgot, that mustard has zero calories. I need to find some marinade or dressings that I can make with it. I had booked myself for a hot chocolate and marshmallows tonight but I 'm going to save that for another day and go to sleep now.

Tomorrow will not be an easy day.

Taming My Swollen Heart

2011-01-10T18:51:00.000-08:00

Fireworks and parades make me want to cry. I know it's silly, but it's been that way for a long time. They are just so all-American that they make my heart swell.

I have those moments at school too. Pep rallies and the Christmas concert are usually the culprit. They are these little pockets of normalcy and contentment. Feelings of this is the way it's supposed to be. Like a fragment of a Hollywood movement.

Tonight was a School Board meeting. I joke about it being a "We Love McHenry" meeting in that tone of completely misleading self-assuredness I fake so well. Justin was recognized for placing third in the district for cross country. Kristen was recognized for her award-winning football story. Before presenting her with her certificate and plaque, Mrs. A praised me for the excellence of the student newspaper my kids produce.

After all the recognition hoopla, the audience dispersed. I stayed through the general meeting mainly because my request for taking the kids to the Key Club Convention was being presented. As the Superintendent was proposing it to the board, he kept looking to me and smiling. In these days of constrained budgets and liability concerns, it was still approved without reservation, after several statements in support of what the club does.

For a few moments, I probably allowed my erratic ego bask in the kudos. I came to realize that at the root of all else though was that same desire to just burst forth in tears from the sheer love and reward and pride that these kids bring to my life. If I had been asked to say a few words about the kids, I could not have done it without taming my swollen heart.

I am so abundantly blessed to be given this opportunity in life- I want to constantly remind myself of the responsibility that comes with this privilege. I know that
I should never take for granted the sheer power I have to encourage and influence these children that are crossing my path for just a few years of their life's journey.

I want to stay so very aware of that fact and not just let myself get complacent in that role!

Teacher of the Year

2010-12-13T17:49:00.000-08:00

This is the time of year when I am forced to take inventory of myself as a teacher and ascertain what it is that my co-workers think of me.

Teacher of the Year nominations. The way it works in our district is that there is mass voting by the whole staff then the nominees are narrowed down to the top 4 or so and a second vote is cast.

I have to admit, I just really wish I would get nominated. I don't expect that I would ever win... and, sadly, I am perfectly okay with that. I do not think I excel as a teacher. I do, however, think I far exceed what is expected in my contributions to the school culture.

I wish I could be more humble about it. I appear to be... and have even been announced to be modest about all that I do. But, at heart, I think I do more than most and I don't think I get recognized enough for doing it. Trust me, I know that it's rather hypocritical to want the recognition- it's oxymoronic to undertaking projects to improve our community and society if I am only doing it for recognition.

What's even more hypocritical is that I crave recognition when I don't even put forth the effort to let others know what has been accomplished. This is probably what is mistaken for that false sense of modesty. The truth is that I get wrapped up in so much, and lack the energy or organization to add one more thing to the task- such as publicizing it.

At the end of each year, for several years now, I question what I do. I have discussed on occasions my stress-reward scale, whereas if the reward I get from said activity is not equal to the stress it causes me endure, then I need to disengage from it. This, of course, only works with voluntary positions- roles that are my choice and not my obligation. For this reason, I stepped down from being freshman class sponsor. I had stepped down from Staff Council, but then got too nosy and wanted to be back in the loop, so volunteered to head a committee that put me back in the group.

I am already having these thoughts this year, 6 months too early. Key Club has been explosively busy for the past month. It has been a whirlwind. In some ways I have learned to relinquish the need to micromanage each minute detail. In other ways I feel that I have let too much get muddled through when it could have been more organized and less stressed.

This is my year of establishing balance and I am failing miserably. My house is a wreck. My classroom is a wreck. They both rather mirror the wreck that I am right now trying to manage it all. I want to focus more on my day-to-day teaching. I want to feel more powerful in the classroom. I want to challenge kids but not use education to intimidate them. Perhaps it was best summed by my recent Facebook status, "It is hard to find the balance between being a teacher that kids like now and one they will respect later."

I guess the most timely way to look at it, is that when this time comes around again, I want to feel like I was deserving to be nominated for Teacher of the Year... actually for my teaching.

Disfunk

2010-10-10T20:14:00.000-07:00

Often at night, there is a severe sadness that will creep up from behind and overtake me like a shadow down an alley. It seems that I haven't felt it for a while, but tonight it returns.

As always, there have been so many nights when I wanted to write but I didn't want to be too negative or too personal in the case that I do let others see these ponderings one day... but right now, I don't so much care about that.

I am working towards the end of two four-day weekends in a row. Last weekend, school was canceled Thursday & Friday for rain. The Fall Festival was Saturday so those extra days off help me prepare for that.

This weekend, I took off Friday for a Journalism workshop and Monday somewhat for Benjamin's 6-month appointment, somewhat just to have another 4-day weekend. I wish I could brag about all the work I got one... but, of course, that would be a lie.

The workshop was good. It was disappointing that only 1 student wanted to go but at least it was someone I enjoy spending time with- someone that leads me think I have an influence in her life. It was more than a little disappointing to see the products put together by other schools and think about our publication in comparison. I just try to keep in mind that, if given the chance, I could build the journalism program to equal heights that I built the Key Club.

I'm a bit stressed about Benjamin's doctor appointment tomorrow. I feel fairly certain we will be told that he is underweight and that will make me feel like a failure at breastfeeding, which at this point, I am.

The house looks like a tornado rolled through it. I spent far too much time working on small details in specific areas when I should have instead been focusing on the overall effect.

My weight has yet again been another concern. My body aches so often. Even when my mind is willing to get some work done, my body cannot. I have had so much trouble getting in and out of tables at restaurants. I feel like Jason is judging my eating habits, like eating a second bowl of cereal this morning.

I have often said that I can continue too function so long as there is just one facet of my life that is well... and I am not so sure what that would be right now.

Vampire vs. Zombie

2010-08-01T21:11:00.000-07:00

No, not a conflict at the heart of the newest teen flick, but the conflict of deciding which one I resembled more over the past week.

Two Wednesdays ago, the skin around my eyes felt very dry. This is not uncommon for me- a condition of my allergies that more than occasionally flares up. This time though, it kept getting progressively worse. Going out with friends for dinner Friday night, I found myself wiping the condensation from my glass to hold to my eyes for temporary comfort. Saturday, looking into the mirror, I could see that the lids had become so dry that they were cracking and bleeding.

I called for a doc's appointment Monday and was surprised at how easily I was able to get in. I didn't realize it was because I was being set up to see the new doc. I try real hard not to have that small town "We don't like new people" attitude... but I didn't feel real confident about this guy. Since I was already going in I decided to mention issues with pain in my thumb. He ordered a series of blood tests, thinking the 2 might be related- a joint issue, or not- an autoimmune issue.

Tuesday was a really lazy day. We had planned to go to Busch Gardens Wednesday, so I planned to go in for the bloodwork on Thursday. Except, my eyes grew progressively worse after seeing the doc. The eyes themselves turned red and painful. It seemed that the skin issues had improved before I went to see the doc (of course), but then grew worse afterwards (of course).

So, we postponed the BG trip and I went in Wednesday morning for the bloodwork. Jason grew more concerned as the condition grew even worse on Thursday, to the point that it took great effort to even open my eyes. I talked to the doc and he said most of the blood work was back. My WBC was high (infection) along with my SED (inflammation). I told him about my eyes and he ordered some antibiotic eyedrops. We were still waiting for the ANA test.

I had already realized before that point that Lupus was one of the possibilities he was looking at. I allowed myself to grow paranoid over that for a few days. I have to admit that in a small way it romanced me- a reason other than weight for my lack of energy, my need to measure out the reasons to go upstairs, the times I layed on the couch and just felt like my body was so weary. I stared into the mirror several times lookiing for the tell-tale butterfly rash. That was also in great relation to Jason telling me my cheeks looked purple. In actuality, all of my facial skin has grown painfully dry because of the ice bags and wet cloths. Anything I try to moisturize it with, except Vaseline, burns badly.

Today, Sunday, felt a bit more normal. I was able to get up and about with only a few pauses to grab a cloth from the freezer to hold to my eyes for comfort. I guess the drops are working. I am thankful this didn't happen during the school year.

Jinxed?

2010-07-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

Last Monday, not this past one but the week before, was one of those many days in which I had wished I posted. It was a bad day. BAD. I, not so jokingly, told myself to write about it- just journal what happened so that when I look back on a particularly stressful day, I could see that things could be worse.

The boys had to be at church to leave for M-Fuge by 6:30. Thankfully, Jason took them. The Central Air "guy" came by and discovered that our upstairs unit was in need of 3 or 4 pounds of freon. Not real sure what that means. Just know it cost $150ish. Then, a guy came by to give an estimate on removing the branch that fell on the roof ($250) and to cut back the other trees surrounding the house ($1200). Jason went to Paul D to register and the financial aid office told him that it was unlikely he would be able to submit his paperwork for the GI Bill in time and that we would need to pay for his tuition and books aforehand in the hopes of being reimbursed. Sick stomach. Trouble geting ready and out the door. I had a scheduled cleaning at the dentist. The (very) good news is that I had no new "developments" over the past *year* since my last check-up. The bad news was I still had work that I postponed getting done with the convenient excuse of pregnancy. Most namely, a crown- my first "real" dental work other than fillings, which after insurance will cost $477. Lunch at Olive Garden. Trip to Wal-Mart. Scouts.

Then, I had this urge to be social- very unlike me, and suggested to Jason that we go to the church softball game after Scouts. Not only was it, afterall, not too social, I hit a deer with the car. It jumped from within the woods across the front of my car. I wasn't going as fast as I could have been on that back stretch of country road and there was nothing I could do to avoid it. It seemed like I barely hit it. We were shocked to get out and see the damage to the hood and front end.

So, that Monday? Was a long, stressfull... and EXPENSIVE... day.

Beach Bust

2010-07-15T08:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Beach Day 2010. It was Benjamin's first trip to the beach ever and the first time the boys and I went this year. We spent over three hours driving to spend less than two hours on the beach. I cannot say, in any way, that it was a fruitful expedition. We stopped at 7-11 about 30 minutes out to get gas and I felt sick. I strongly considered just turning back and coming home, but I considered the justified attitudes the boys would have and "toughed it out" for "their sake." I realize I am dramatizing this to the point of sounding like I was battling cancer rather than diarrhea. I, thankfully and surprisingly, made it all the way to the beach without any follow-up bathroom breaks in driving.

During the art festival I scouted out a new area to beach- with close parking, public bathrooms, shower stand, water fountain, and a deck of rocking chairs. We stopped a tourist trap and bought an umbrella and then headed to the water. Justin boogie boarded and Cameron played in the waves. Justin played soccer and Cameron dug for crabs. Justin ran and Cameron tried to keep up. After not much more than an hour the boys were bored.

Observant person that I am, I did not notice that we had built our beach encampment under a monstrous ominous cloud. (That, versus serendipity, may have explained an unexpected uncrowded spot on the busy beach.) I was able to read a few chapters of my book as Benjamin slept before large rain drops started plopping on my foot. Despite the many warnings to the boys that we were leaving if it started raining, I crazily decided to wait out the shower only slightly protected under the umbrella, broken apart and lowered to the ground, as I fed Benjamin.

Of course, it was not until we braved it through that little downpour (again with the dramatics) that they decided to close the beach. C-L-O-S-E the beach. In my 30-something years of going to the beach, I never saw such a thing. The life guards packed up and walked around, telling everyone the beach was being closed for a "pending electrical storm." Then patrols came through on 4-wheelers, chasing everyone off the sand, followed by trucks that announced "We take this very seriously here."

So, I waited at the rockers with the other misplaced beach goers for maybe half an hour. The boys were hungry. You know how some moms always seem prepared? They have band-aids in their purses and juice boxes in their cars. Yeah, well that's not me. We should have packed a lunch. We didn't. I sent the boys out to scout what eating places were near. That was a failed mission unless I wanted to hit a seafood buffet and turn this into a $100 beach trip. At first the boys were just ready to leave and I really pushed them to grab something to eat and head back to the beach. Eventually, just exhausted by the situation and lacking all desire to continue the effort, despite finally having their support for the idea, we headed back to the car (and passed a Blimpie's sub less than a block from where we were).

Before we even got out of the lot, Jason called with concerns about the A/C system. It felt like just one.more.thing. I stopped for Chick-Fila. My sandwich was over cooked and I was afraid of getting sick, again, so I gave Justin my food and headed home.

Again, not exactly a fruitful expedition.

My Affair

2010-07-13T20:24:00.000-07:00

It would be easy to blame my weight problem on childhood. The dinner staple I remember most about my early years is Hamburger Helper. I remember the flavor I liked most (Stroganoff), the flavor I liked least (Lasagna) and that which I was indifferent about (Cheeseburger). Second to that delicasy would be the bags of gravy with a few slices of meat that you boiled and then poured over bread (and many a pot pie). The reigning beverage was Pepsi. This was back in the day when soda came in 16 oz glass bottles and I remember going to the convenience store on pay days to get an entire flat of them.

I never tasted a strawberry until my freshman year of high school and not lettuce until my senior year. Both were so strange to my taste buds that it was like a burning or acidic taste. I did not have a bagel, yogurt, or brocolli until my adult years.

As a child, Friday was Pay Day and we would go to the Super Fresh to cash my mother's check and get groceries. My ritual Friday night meal was a generic frozen pizza and bag of Herr's crab-flavored potato chips. The pizza was one of those cheap flavorless deals, so eating that in it's entirity is no big deal. Eating the entire full-sized bag of chips is a different matter. So is the box of generic macaronni and cheese that I would fix- and eat in it's entirity- for lunches during the summer.

Throughout my teen years I was fascinated by eating disorders. I read all that I could get my hands on that related to bulemia or anorexia. I bought a Syrup of Ipecac but never opened it. I survived one day not eating, then ate Stove Top stuffing the next morning for breakfast.

I never put a true effort into losing weight until I was about 23. I went to the gym, walked, and thought about what I ate. I didn't know what I was doing though and the phase most assuredly lasted a lot less time than my memory wants to think it did.

The first time I really knew I had an eating problem was when I was about 29. I bought a box of Whitman's chocolates and hid them in my closet so I could sneak in there and steal them when I wished.

Shortly after that time, I went through my first Navy deployment with Jason. Over that 6 months I lost 66 pounds. I weighed 199 pounds on the day his ship pulled in and it was the first time I had weighed under 200 pounds in my entire adult life, probably since junior high school. I did Weight Watchers, but I looked up the information on-line but didn't put much thought into what I was eating other than counting points. The only exercise I engaged in was casually walking around the neighborhood. Also, during this time I was taking Metabolife, before they pulled it off the shelved for Ephedra, and realize that most likely deserves the greatest credit for the loss.

Life returned to normal when the deployment ended though... and so did my eating. As the cliche goes, I gained back all that I lost and a few friends. Eating out was the normal social event for Jason and me. When I returned to college I would use food to keep me awake during the hour-long commutes. Thus began my "hidden dinners." I would stop at the McDonald's drive-thru for a McChicken meal (and extra McChicken) then come home- often stopping somewhere to discard the evidence- and cook the family dinner, which I would then, of course, consume too.

There have been many half-hearted attempts to lose weight again since that time. There have been many "last meals" (Let me eat this tonight because I'm going to eat better starting tomorrow... tomorrow... tomorrow). There have been many days begun "on the right foot" only leading to a quick failure, often by lunch.

I would have never considered myself an emotional eater before- quite the opposite. When I get stressed or upset, my stomach gets sick and eating is the last thing I can do. I find myself developing behaviors now that hint to deep emotional problems associated with food. I have often felt this physical, tanglible emptiness and I want to eat, eat, eat until I feel filled, engorged, sick. It is, without a doubt, binging.

Many years ago I heard Gail, Oprah's best friend, say that she knew that she had to lose weight when food, which was once her friend turned on her and started to make her sick. That is something that has stayed in my mind all these years because it describes me. I get sick on a regular basis. For the longest time, food was a reward. I weakly associated it with a raise in status from my previous life to having the money to go out to eat or buy whatever food I wanted at the store.

For a while now though, food has made me sick. Not just the butter-rich or greasy food that would be expected to make someone sick, but all food, any food. Just here recently I have realized I will make the fully-concious decision to eat something although I know it will make me sick and then before I am even done being sick, I will crave more of it and want to finish off whatever I walked away from to go get sick. I have to think there is more than a physical sickness there, but an emotional one too. I don't want to get into the analysis of all that right now. I just want to get all these thoughts and feelings out so they will stop swirling in my head and I can move forward in maybe figuring some of this stuff out.

Two and a Half Months

2010-06-30T21:41:00.000-07:00

Jason and the boys are away at camp for the week. I don't consider Benjamin one of the boys yet. He's all mine. I have only left him home with Jason & the boys one night long enough to run to DQ and back. He has spent many long days with me. Before he was yet a month old, we spent the full day at the high school carrying out the details for the Teacher Appreciation luncheon. Just under 2 months, he spent the 10 hour hot day with me at the Relay for Life. The following weekend was the Boardwalk Art Show, with various shopping trips thrown in the mix. He is such a good baby. He makes these things easy.

He makes them too easy sometimes. The first month, he gained 1 oz a day. During his second month, he gained about 1/2 oz a day. It's still in the normal range, but on the lower end of "normal," which I don't like. He isn't a fussy baby, and if I get caught up in the chaos of the day, he will just let me skip a feeding. I don't do it intentionally, but often by the time I realize that he is due, overdue, it's near time for what should have been the next feeding. Feeding on demand worked well in the beginning because his demand was as precise as a clock- every three hours. Now though, he is not as demanding, and I worry on a consistent basis if I am feeding him often enough and if he is getting enough. It is a definate downfall of breastfeeding- not having the litany of empty bottles on the kitchen counter denoting exactly how many ounces he consumed in a day.

He is a great sleeper, which has also added to the decrease in feedings. He has been sleeping through the night since about three weeks old. He falls asleep around 10 most nights and wakes about 7ish. We, just in the past week or so, moved to footed pajamas from sleeping gowns. The gowns, like the other newborn clothes, were no longer fitting well. Since birth, Benjamin has hated to be swaddled in a blanket. Sometimes I will cross-fold a big blanket in a way that swaddles his legs, but he hates him arms being pinned down, so I will often just lay the blanket across him like an older child. When I want to make him fall asleep though, like when he is a little fussy and due for a nap, I will bundle him in a big snuggly blanket, give him his pacifier and walk around with him. He will often let me lay him down for a nap even if he is wide-awake. Just as often though, one of the easiest ways to get him to cry is to lay him down when he doesn't want to nap. He will often fight sleep. The pacifier helps to soothe him. He is a sound sleeper. I have had him amongst many crowds when people will comment that every time they see him, he is asleep- not that he sleeps too much, but just that he is so undisturbed. He will often startle or wake though when he hears my voice.

In so many ways he seems so much older than he is. I know the head full of hair helps. In many ways he seems so advanced for his age. At one month, when we looked in the baby books, so many of his skills were hinting at the three-month range. He has had a strong neck since birth and when you hold him he likes to lift his head and look around. He hates to lay back. He has always liked to be in a sitting position. If he is laid back on his Boppy, he will do "crunches" to try and sit forward... and here recently, falling right over. He has also turned to his side on a few occasions. I so enjoy when he babble, hearing his "voice." I read in the baby book one day that you should stick your tongue out and he will mirror it. It worked the first time I tried it. It really seemed the other day like he was mimicking me blowing kisses and today, blowing raspberries. Last week, he was sitting on Jason's chest repeating "o" after Jason.

He is a happy baby, so easy to make smile. He often has a mouth full of bubbles, and it seemed often in the early weeks like he was trying to make that happen. Now, there are some days that he drools so much that he soaks the entire top half of his outfit.

He is still sleeping in the portable crib in our room, despite the fact that his nursery has been put together for maybe a month now. I told Jason that I would probably move him up there after camp. It's hard to think about it though. He may be sleeping through the night, but I am not sure how well I will sleep. There have been many shameful nights when I held his chest or stirred him a bit to make sure he was breathing. Likewise, I actually miss being at school- just a bit- but I can't imagine after being with him all day, every day for 4 1/2 months how it is going to feel to leave him for work. Before he was born, everyone would comment how much in my life was going to need to change. I would phsaw them and say I will just strap the kid on and go. Well... the Moby is kinda complicated, and hot, and the car seat is so much easier to deal with... but otherwise, that has pretty much been the case, because he has made it that easy.

I love the smell of his dirty diapers. I love the feeling of him nursing, him looking into my eyes as he feeds. I love when he is so tired that he will lay his head on my chest and let me hold him like a baby. I love when his head is turning this way and that and he is looking all around and then just connects with my eyes and smiles. I love how he stretches his feet out as if he knows how much I like to rub and kiss them. I love when he babbles and coos and when he holds my finger.

I am terrified by how quickly time is... will... melt by. That I will not remember every moment.

Benjamin's Birth

2010-04-24T17:23:00.000-07:00

I had started writing a recap of Benjamain's birth when he was 2 weeks old. I was afraid then that some of the details had escaped my memory. Now, at 5 weeks old, I return to put the memories in writing, knowing that is the case.

I was supposed to check into the hospital around 6:00 or 6:30 a.m. After some stomach problems, getting ready, and a stop at 7-11, it was 6:46 a.m. when I checked in to the Women's Center at Obici. I had Jason drop me at the front entrance and go park the car while I went up and signed in. A small part of me was afraid they would tell me I was too late and would have to come back another day. I didn't logically think that, but the thought tickled the recesses of my mind.

I was taken into the birthing room and hooked up to the all-too-familiar (at this point) monitors. The nurse reminded me of Jason's Aunt Sharon. She was a little older and her name was "Michele" with one L too. She asked me if I was hard to start an IV on and I told her, yes, I was a hard stick. The nurse coming on the next shift, in just a few minutes, was more skilled with a needle. So, she was going to wait for her to start the IV. I was disappointed to hear this nurse was leaving. I was even more disappointed to find that the nurse coming on was the only one I had met and disliked during my visits to the Women's Center. In the end though, she was good to work with... even if I shattered her confidence in needle skills.

In 5 weeks retrospect, I would still say the most difficult part of the labor and birth process was being stuck for the IV. "Heinz 57," as the nurse called herself because she was born in South Africa but rew up on Brazil, tried.. and failed... 3 times. So, they brought in another nurse, who also failed. Then, Heinz 57 struck out again. She decided I should rest again for a while before they tried again--- an idea I was in full support of. But then, Pat, the midwife, arrived and said we needed to get the IV in. She brought back nurse # 2, who failed, again. Finally, they decided to call up the anesthesiology doctor, who after much poking and prodding, was able to get it inserted in my right hand. The needle was taped in place securely and I remained concious of it the entire morning, lest we have to go through that ordeal again.

Pat broke my water at 8:25 a.m. I did not have my water break naturally with either of the prevous births. I don't remember how it felt with the other two. I guess it feels how you imagine it would though... like a gush of warm water. I didn't realize that it wasn't a succint experience though. So, when I felt it several other times and called the nurse in, she said there would be leaks each time I had a contraction.

The IV bag of oxytocin was hung at 2 ml, and each time the nurse came in she would pump up the flow a couple more, until the last I remember seeing it was 30 ml. Contractions came on around 10:00 a.m. They started very irratic, both in their length and spacing, anywhere from 15 minutes bewteen to 2 minutes. Then, it seemed to progress rather quickly. Without concious decision, I visualized the ocean as the pain "washed over" me. Specifically, I could see myself wading in the ocean's waters. I would think a big wave was coming and I would brace myself, but then the wave would pass through and it wasn't as big as I thought it was going to be and I was able to float through it... but could see the next big one coming. I honestly think I could have made it through the contractions without drugs. I was able to "zone in," block out everyone and everything, and breathe through them. It would be completely inapproprite to say I "enjoyed" them, but it was part of the experience I was able to embrace.

When the nurse was checking me in, she said we would call the anesthegiologist at 4 cm for the epidural. She wrote this on the white board in the room and I spent the morning being faced with it. About 11:30 a.m., I called in the nurse to check how dilated I was. First, she gave me this diatribe on how it wasn't good for them to check too many times because it could cause an infection to the cervix, so was I "SURE" I wanted her to check. I was rather irritated to get this schpeal the FIRST time I asked... and when she did check? I was past 4 cm (thank you very much!). So, they called up the doc and I had an epidural put in.

I think the problems I had with Cameron's epidural repeated themselves, but I didn't really understand what was happening back then... and only had a slightly better understanding this time. My blood pressure fell very low and I'm pretty sure they had to play with the meds to get that straight. I felt nauseous. I wasn't allowed to sit up in bed but they told me to turn my head to the side and gave me a small basin. I didn't understand how I was going to get sick like that, and thankfully I didn't have to find out. Once the meds set in, my legs felt like two beams of lead. I wanted to cross my ankles and I had to get Jason to physically pick up one leg and cross the other to accomplish the task. The nurses had me lay on my side throughout labor to help keep my blood pressure from rising. They wanted me to turn from side to side every 45 minutes, or so. That too was an almost impossible task. I would have to hold onto to Jason's forearm so he could hoist me up into the bed and I could turn. When the nurse checked my dilation after the epidural (this time without the speech), I was about 5.5 cm.

I didn't feel anything after that point, of course. I didn't feel the need to get relief from contractions. Mainly I was scared that if I didn't get the epidural when I could, that things would progress too quickly and I wouldn't be able to get it later if I asked. I did not want to feel the pain and tearing of actual delivery. I felt guilty that I did it. It's easy to point out how easily everything went after that, but I am sure part of the reasons things went so smoothly is because of the epidural.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, it was had to keep the fetal monitor in place. At some point, the nurses realized that the heartbeat rate was not staying where it should. The nurse realized that if she kept my leg elevated on her shoulder (with help, of course) , the heart rate was fine, but when she let my leg down the heart rate would drop again. It would improve too though when she "reached in" and rubbed the baby's head. At this point, of course, we are getting a little worried... and this is when the word "caesarian" begins to be thrown around.

The nurses decided to call Pat, the midwife. Jason had wanted to step outside for a little while, but he said as he was leaving, he saw Pat coming down the halls, slinging off her jacket at as she walked. She eased into the Birthing Room and took command. The first plan was that when I felt contractions, I would push... except I could feel nothing. The monitors only showed a couple of contractions anyway. So, the plan was then to push without contractions. The village assembled. I had 2 nurses, 2 students, the assistant and Pat gathered at the end of the table. My legs were held back and Jason stood at my head as I crunched forward, holding my breath, and pushing for counts of 10. And, three sets of pushes later, I was a mother for a third time.

Pat had asked me earlier how long my previous labors were and I told her 4-6 hours. Exactly 6 hours after my water being broke, at 2:25 p.m., Benjamin continued that streak. When I looked down to him, the first thing I could see was Jason in the crease of his upper nose. He was sucking his thumb before they had even wiped him off. I was able to hold him for a while before they finished cleaning him and weighing/assessing him. He wouldn't nurse just then, but when they gave him back to me, he latched right on.

We spent two nights in the hospital. The first night, I was still on an endorphin high and didn't sleep much (but watched a "Hoarders" marathon). The second night I slept as much as possible with the nurses consistently checking in on their ONLY patients (Benjamin and me).

It was a great birth. The final weeks of pregnancy were hard. Yet, I wasn't one of those women just anxious to get it over with. I knew this was the beginning of the final chapter for me. I've been given this chance, at a much more functional period of my life, to experience motherhood all over again. Birth is empowering. I am so glad I did not have a male OB. It felt so "right" to have this "community" of women at my bed, ready to welcome and care for my baby. Birth is miraculous. No matter your religious beliefs, you have to be awed at the body's ability to create life. It is just beyond comprehension to understand what and how the body reproduces and sustains life.

The Final Countdown...

2010-04-08T15:17:00.000-07:00

Throughout the pregnany, the midwife had commented that I was always going to "measure large" ... because I was large. At the 36 week check-up though she seemed a bit more concerned about the size of the baby. So, she decided at the 38 week check-up we would do a sonogram to measure him.

She was on vacation but the following week so I had my 37 week check-up with a doctor in the office that I had not met before. It was quick and painless but he commented (repeatedly) this was going to be a BIG baby.

So, at 38 weeks I had the sonogram. All looked good, including the mullet of hair visible on the screen, and the baby measured 7 1/2 pounds. That didn't sound so big to me, but the sonogram tech and later the midwife assured me that it was. He was in the 80th% of babies his age. In the following 2 weeks, I should gain 1/2 pound each week, then you had to give or take 1 pound in the guestimation of science (nice oxymoron). So, we're looking at a 7.5 - 9.5 pound baby. I guess they had me so terrified that as long as the predicition didnt hit double digits, I could handle the news... even at a potential 9.5 pounds.

At the same visit, I had an elevated blood pressure reading. In the prior weeks, my weight gain had been irratic- gaining maybe 3 pounds for the first 7.5 months of pregnancy and then 13 pounds in 2 visits. I had a bit of swelling in my lower legs and feet too, but the main concern was the blood pressure.

So, the midwife sent me over to the hospital for tests. Now, I thought the only reason I was going to the hospital was because it was a late appoinment and the lab had closed. I figured I was just going into a triag room and they were going to take a couple of vials of blood. I was, instead, more than a bit shocked when they checked me into a BIRTHING room, gave me a gown, and hooked my up to 2 monitors, a bp cuff, and a pulse ox... after explaining a 24-hour urine test. After a few problems with getting a good reading, the bp was fine- better than norm, actually. When the blood tests came back though, the 4 liver function tests- which is not something they would test for normally- were very high, at least one was 4 times the normal high range.

This all transpired Wednesday evening. The midwife came into my room a few hours later with "good news and bad news." The good news was they were letting me go home. The bad news was I needed to be on bedrest and could not go back to work. The plan had only been to work through Friday anyway. Thursday was an exam day and I only had a morning exam. Friday was a 1 o'clock day. She told me I could go into work for a couple of hours Thursday morning to get things together but then needed to go home and rest. I told a few too many people at work about all this on Thursday morning. So, one of the asst administrators came by mid-morning and tried to redirect my plan of staying all day by telling me to leave when my exam was done... and I had planned to follow her order... but when I called Jason up to the high school to help me pack out, we ended up taking a couple of hours. So, I just waited out the rest of the day because I did not want to get docked a half day's pay for leaving work an hour or so early.

Friday morning I had to check back into the hospital for follow-up testing. Laying there immobile, trying to keep all the monitors running correctly... for 5 hours... was rather irritating. I had to go down for an ultrasound test that measured 4 different traits of the baby- extremity movement, torso movement, breathing, ?. The baby scored an 8 out of 8. Then I waited and waited on a stretcher to be carried back to my room. Eh... it wasn't all so bad. The lab test results were a little better, so I was sent back home again with a follow-up in the doctor's office scheduled for Monday. And... although I was expected to go home and to bed... I met Jason for Olive Garden, and spent several hours being overwhelmed by Babies R'Us again.

Well, I saw the midwife on Monday of this week. It is the week before I am due, but I get confused as to whether I am now in my 39th week or that starts on Friday, officially 1 week before being due. Either way, she said I was about 2 1/2 cm dilated (was 2 cm at last week's office visit) and she tried to "stir things up a bit" (ow!). She put me on the baby monitor in the office for a while for a stress test, when I had to push a button each time I felt the baby move and they had to record 20 minutes of activity. All looked well. No follow-up appointments were scheduled and she said that if I had not gone into labor by Friday I am to check into the hospital at 6 a.m. to induce.

There were several evenings where I was sure "THIS" was the day... alas, it was not. At some point later in the week, it occured to me that I get nothing done ahead of time, so it was silly to think that I would deliver the baby before I "had" to. So, baring some "surprise" tonight... tomorrow morning, I check in.

Six Weeks to go...

2010-03-04T20:45:00.000-08:00

Today was bad. Other than the bleeding early in the pregnancy, it was been a pretty easy journey. Over the last few weeks though, it has slammed me against the wall. Today was particularly bad. In class I was in tears because I was in such great pain. It hurt to sit. It hurt to stand. I wanted so bad to come home and take a hot bath and crawl into bed... which I did, but not until after parent conferences. I'm moving slow and dealing with all kinds of personal embarrassing physical issues, the least of which are pains in the lower pelvic area and an inflamed sciatica.

Although I have only gained three pounds, I feel much larger. I guess its the way "things" have shifted around. It's fun to wear maternity clothes because it's the first time that it's "okay" to be this size. I have gotten, though, a hint of what life will be like if I continue to gain weight (post-baby) or don't lose weight. Little things are making an impact on me, such as how hard to it is bend over the bathroom sink to wash my hands. The feeling of my stomach sticking to the top of my thighs as I sit.

The greatest impression would have to be at my last doc visit. The nurse had me take my belongings into the examining room and then told me to follow her, out the office and down the hall. Although she did not say, I knew in my heart of hearts where we were going. We went into a back room separate from all the doctor's offices and waiting rooms, where the "Big Scale" was. It was large enough to roll a wheelchair on with long bars on both sides. I thought she had taken me there because during my last visit I was close enough to 300 pounds, that I must have broken that threshold and that was as high as the scale went. After weighing me and expressing confusion though, she showed me on the chart where the 2 looked like a 3 and she had thought I weighed 387, not 287. Ironically, I had dropped a couple of pounds since the last visit. Although she was excessively apologetic about it, I was mainly left having to consider that she thought I could have weighed that much... like she looked at me, and it was a possibility. A possibility for someone who weighs people on a regular basis.

A Weighty Reality

2010-02-23T19:24:00.000-08:00

Last week I started wearing maternity clothes. I haven't fully outgrown all of my "regular" clothes, but buttoning pants has become prety darn uncomfortable and shirt-lines and pants-lines aren't always meeting as closely as they should. I ordered 2 pants and 3 dresses. With tax and expedited shipping, I onlt spent $117. So, that felt like a good deal. One of the dresses is EXTREME in the "Looking Pregnant" trait, but I am overall happy with them. I was hesitant in how I would fit in anything ordered on-line.

Ten Weeks to Go

2010-02-09T19:42:00.000-08:00

Back when I thought I wanted to get pregnant, before I decided that I definately did not want another baby, and then became pregnant... I had thought I would embrace every detail of the journey, blessed to have one more chance with the experience. This pregnancy almost started that way. I know I was able to look at morning sickness with that attitude. Since then, however, time has just slipped between my fingers. I rarely remember to take my pre-natal vitamin and the only way I have been (barely) able to keep up with "how" pregnant I am is with the e-mails from "What to Expect" (when I had time to read them).

I had my 30 week check-up last Friday. As the appointment was wrapping up, the midwife told me that she would see me back in 2 weeks. I thought (and said), "oh whoa, we're there already?" The transition from monthly appointments to bi-weekly appointments? Yes, we are. It was an equal moment of reckoning when she asked if I had picked my pediatrician yet. I thought why would I need a pediatrician when the baby is INSIDE me. Of course, then she started talking about what the pediatrician would do at the hospital... because all too soon, the baby will be OUTSIDE of me.

I watched a special with the Duggars last weekend. Michelle gave birth to their 19th child prematurely. It was delivered c-section at 23 or 24 weeks. I watched it at 29 weeks and when they lifted the baby from her stomach, I thought... THAT! That is inside me! I don't want to use the word "creepy" but there was a definate discomfort at the thought. I rewinded the show and called the boys down to watch it, explaining the baby in my stomach was older and bigger than that one. They seemed unphased.

Other than the bleeding early on, this has been a good pregnancy. I like pointing out at work that I am 10 years older and 100 pounds heavier than the other two teachers that are pregnant and having an easy time of it. The school nurse told me the other evening that when she heard the three of us were pregnant, I was the one she most worried about, and I'm doing just fine.

About two weeks ago, I began to feel "Suddenly Pregnant." I only gained three pounds since the last monthly appointment, but things have shifted around I guess. I don't just look like a fat chick any more. I look like a pregnant chick. I feel like a pregnant chick. I walk like a pregnant chick.

Life has been stressful. We are going through a lot of life changes- new home, new baby, a new career for Jason soon. There have been times, moreso recently, when I feel the baby kick and I have this moment where I am just excited to meet him. To see what he is like and get to know him. At times like this though, I wish he would never come out. I'm not ready for one more stressor. Worse still, is I don't even feel a twinge of guilt for feeling that way.

I had to have the test for gestational diabetes last Friday. The nurse called Monday to inform me that my level was "slightly elevated". The number was 150 and I just googled that 140 is normal. I have to go back for a 3-hour test, which I unfortunately just saw involved 4 blood draws. I often say that I haven't had a wake-up call for my weight yet. With this, I realize now that a call probably won't wake me up anyway. I had a co-worker friend die of a heart attack when her baby was 6 weeks old following a pregnancy complicated by gestational diabetes. And yet, the news doesn't worry me much. It probably has something to do with the funk I am in righ now. Maybe, maybe not. I had expected the number to be much worse. When I get hungry, I get dizzy; and, if I go too long without eating, I need to sleep almost as if passed out.

Heartburn has been persistent and painful too. I have never experienced it before this pregnancy. I'm also having to go to the bathroom what seems like every 30 minutes. Worse yet, when I do go, it's usually not necessary, just felt like it.

For better or for worse, what I look forward most to is having 4 months off of school.

Moving on Up

2010-01-16T17:36:00.000-08:00

We are moved. We closed on the new house on the Friday that began Christmas Break. I spent the first week of Christmas break packing the old house and the second week of Christmas Break unpacking the new house. For as stressful as the uncertainty of closing was for three months, it worked out best. I do not forsee how we could have possible achieved the move without the break from work.

Of course, we are not fully unpacked. After 3 weeks in the new house, I would say that we are less than half-way there. Life happens, unpacking doesn't. This is my panacea now- the cure for all my ills. Everything will be happy and better and ideal if only I could get the unpacking done... which, as before, raises the questions doe I subconciously stall the process to avoid displelling that notion?... or am I just lazy.

It's a bit overwhelming. I look around at the niceness and largeness of it all and ask myself, "Am I good enough for this?"

Christmas Limbo

2009-12-14T19:04:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, this is not a game involved bending backwards unnaturally to walk beneath a stick while Jimmy Buffet melodies play.

Instead, it's the feeling of being pulled between thinking you will be in your new house by Christmas versus not feeling like you will ever move. Officially I guess we have been in the process of closing this deal for three months now. In great part, it is my fault- for my credit issues that needed to be resolved and for the late mortgage payment. But all that is resolved, and here I sit, in the old house, half-packed (yes, exaggeration) with nothing of Christmas displayed.

Ok, I am an infamous Grinch and I can't pretend that I am particularly upset about missing the holiday hoopla... but the uncertainty of knowing when we will move has turned into uncertaintly of IF we will move... and that is just far too stressful to deal with right now.

A Lesson in Giving

2009-12-05T15:43:00.001-08:00

Last night was the Christmas Charity Dance at school. It was sponsored by the Student Government. Their advisor had spoken with me about getting her kids involved with my kids in a charity project. So, when this event came to light, I offered our assistance. I am trying to learn that defined and tangible services are the best way to offer your volunteer efforts. So, I offered to do the refreshments. From providing the funds, to shopping, setting up, serving, and cleaning up, it seemed like a good contribution of both effort and monetary sources. When the initial promotional flyer was sent to me, it listed both organizations as sponsors of the event.

However... her officers were quite obviously not pleased with our involvement... and they made this quite evident, from comments made during organizational planning meetings for the event to a direct comment made from the Student Government President to the entire group of K-Club kids on yearbook photo day. So, the revised event flyers that surfaced had neither our organization nor theirs listed as sponsors. I would not give that so much merit, except that the announcement for the event made emphatic mention of "The Student Government is sponsoring another dance...", which really made no sense... except to make a point.

I really wish I had risen above it. I wish I had been a good example to my kids. I wish I had advised them to keep the focus on the charity and ignore the needless drama associated with it.

But, did I? Of course not. As usual, I got sucked right into the teenage drama. And, as usual, I even stirred a little of it up. I'm upset with myself that I couldn't keep my own focus on the charity and instead, became more concerned with personal recognition. I let it fester right up to the night of the event.

Then, I was humbled and put in my place. For that I am grateful. In addition to dance admission, the Student Government also raised money by sponsoring a competition between clubs. It was a grand idea and went far better than I imagined it could. Each club nominated a Snow King and Snow Queen. The club that raised the most money for the charity, won. This is what drew in most of the funds. It was their sponsor's idea and it was a good one.

The Honor Society won the titles. I knew that would happen because they required their members to donate $5 each to the fund. They offered service hours for this and for buying a dance ticket (versus coming to the dance). Of course, I sit in judgment of that because I want to be the ultimate judge of what should and shouldn't be considered community service.

When I saw how much two other girls had raised as individuals I felt they were a bit jipped by the Honor Society methods of fundraising. They represented clubs that were not at all active in the school and went to great personal efforts to raise money. While I had to appreciate that the Honor Society's method was an effective fundraising tool, it felt wrong to snub the efforts of individuals who exerted great effort in support of the cause.

Again I was humbled. And, again I was thankful to be so (because eventually this will have an effect!). In addition to Snow King and Queen, the Student Government also named the individual who raised the most funds as Winter Charity Queen (or in future case, King).

So, by the end of the evening, I had to admit my embarrassing selfishness in being upset by the lack of acknowledgement when there were other clubs that did more... and were recognized less. It was truly a successful effort of a large chunk of the student body... not just K-Club, or the Student Government, or the two combined.

I really thought I had come to peace with it... until I looked ahead to Monday's announcements and saw the praise to the Student Government for the success of the event... and I festered again. This time, not that I didn't get any recognition, because I herald that we are one among many who helped, but that they got all the credit, even though it was their idea and organization that made the event a success.

I wish I didn't allow myself to pervert my volunteer efforts in this way. I need to stop overshadowing my physical effort to be involved in the community and fundraising events with the pointless need for kudos. It's oxymoronic! And moreso, it's not the message that I want to inflict upon the kids who allow me to be such a great influence in their lives.

Half-Baked

2009-12-03T20:25:00.000-08:00

I freely admit to stealing that idea from a blog I read written by a mom of two young sons who is on about the same time table as me for her pregnancy. I completely blame mommy bloggers for the baby fever that preceded this pregnancy.

I'm about 4 1/2 months pregnant now. It could be 5. I don't know, hard to keep up with.

I told myself that I was going to really embrace everything about this pregnancy, from morning sickness to sore breasts. I, unsurprisingly, have not. I forget to take my prenatal vitamins far more often than I remember them. I don't eat right. I can barely remember how pregnant I am, let less what's developing or how big the baby is.

I have had a couple of days of excitement recently. There was one night when I thought that I was just anxious to meet this new little person. On another night, maybe two, I felt possibly the first tinges of excitement with this pregnancy. Mostly though... life just goes on.

I wasn't oblivious to it before, but I definately more clearly realize now that I was emotionally disassociating myself with this pregnancy during the early months when there were complications. I wasn't willing to trust in God's plan because his plan may have been for this pregnancy to terminate... and that wasn't acceptable.

There is still occasional bleeding. For the most part it seems to have stopped. It seemed to be more prevalent, as it began to taper away, when I stressed my body- whether in the bathroom or just scurrying around. There were a couple of bad nights. I remember one imparticular when the bleeding was heavy and I was beneath layers of blankets and shivering. I was sure that I was in the process of a miscarraige. I was not.

In the time since then, I've come to the peace of being able to trust in God's plan. It doesn't seem plausible that God would plan to end a life, unless there was great reason. Of course, I cannot deny that it is much easier to have this attitude now that most all complications have subsided.

I also don't want to feel so hypocritical espousing religious strength when I am at another spiritually low point in my life. To be honest it's not so much God's role that I am at peace with but my surrendering to that of which I have no control.

Hope

2009-09-06T18:49:00.000-07:00

Hope is a many feathered thing. It tickles at the corners of your being and lifts your soul.

When I awoke the Thursday of the sonogram, it was with an abundant sense of hope. Except for a few frantic moments of worry in the doctor's office that I cannot deny, overall I just felt hope. What I had felt so sure was going to be a bad experience (the sonogram), I now looked forward to.

The sonogram went well. It was a healthy-sized bean with a flickering heart beat.

The next day I had to go back to the doctor to discuss the results of all the tests I had endured during the week. That day, it was more of a sense of defiance that I felt. I imagined that the doctor may tell me that my hcg levels had dropped between the two tests and that my body was preparing to abort the fetus. And, my attitude was "Screw You. I saw a heartbeat." That heartbeat was the source of my hope (and defiance).

There was no need for such a defensive stance though. The doctor said everything looked good. The hcg levels were so high on Monday that he was not looking for them to double by Wednesday, which is usually what is expected, yet they still increased.

He couldn't give me an answer for why I was bleeding though, and that was frustrating. I don't handle uncertainty well. He also said because of the complications we do have to consider this a "threatened miscarraige." That scary term that I had hoped the previous doctor was confused in telling me. He wasn't, obviously.

It's been over a week now, and I am not bleeding at all. There were a few days with a random episode following the last doctor's visit. One of the things the doctor had proposed was that some women continue to have their period up to three months into the pregnancy. (That's why you hear stories of women not knowing they were pregnant.) Looking at how abruptly it stopped and then then considering the timing of it, that may have been the cause. Although, that doesn't make it any less scary.

It's kind of funny now that I am a bit nervous that there is no more spotting. It's as if it became routine. Although I felt that my maternal ability was being judged every time I went to the bathroom, it also was a consistent reminder that I was pregnant. No, it's not an easy thing to forget... but it made me very connected to the whole process. Now, there's a slight flutter of worry when I do not see any spotting. A very brief moment of doubt that I'm even still pregnant. I know that it makes no sense and I really don't know how to explain it any better. The spotting had just become as normal a part of my pregnancy as breast soreness and nausea.

Waiting

2009-08-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

Shortly after writing last night, from about 6 p.m. on, there was no bleeding- almost no spotting at all. All through the night and upon waking this morning, the turn for the good remained the same. Today was supposed to be the day I started back for the school year. The doctor said that modified bed rest meant I could go to work; just to put my feet up and rest when I was home.

I had planned to go to work. I got up before the alarm went off and grabbed a fiber bar and ran a bath. Then, I went to the bathroom and saw that the spotting had started again- bright pink with just a small string of tissue.

I decided not to go to work for physical and emotional reasons. It seemed that bed rest made the situation better than moving around. Emotionally, there were a few contributing factors. First, other than forcing myself to make it at least 30 minutes before I go back to check, I know I would spend the whole day in a state of excessive stress and worry. Secondly, I couldn’t handle the happiness and well-wishes about the situation right now. I had figured I would say that there were some complications so we are just waiting to see how things go. But then I figured if I was out this week and news got around that was the reason, then when I went back next week, I wouldn’t have to tell the story so much.

Things went well all morning. I allowed myself to watch two “Baby Stories” filled with commercials for baby products. I napped a couple of hours. Then, I went awoke and went to the bathroom, I am bleeding again- lightly, with some very small clots. I have what feels like mild cramping on an inconsistent basis.

I had really allowed myself to have some hope in the situation but now I feel foolish for that. I am so scared to go for the ultrasound tomorrow. I want to remain positive but I don’t want to lift myself to a place where I can’t handle the news if it is devastating.

Worried

2009-08-24T15:43:00.000-07:00

About 2 o’clock yesterday afternoon, I started to spot. It was very little and very light brown in color. After a few hours, I turned to that world-renown medical expert, Google, and surprisingly it didn’t make me more paranoid. Everything I read online and in my pregnancy book led me to believe it was not cause for alarm. It was the right amount and the right color to be “normal” in the first trimester.

Nonetheless, I went to the bedroom every 20 minutes or so to check. Nothing much changed until about 2 a.m. I awoke and went to the bathroom. The spotting was heavier; it was a bright red; and there was a little tissue. I was sure at that time that I had miscarried. Exactly one week after I found out I was pregnant, I no longer was.

I had a hard time falling back asleep but I guess I eventually did. When Jason woke up in the morning, I told him that I was bleeding through the night. He told me the implications of that didn’t register with him until later, when he was on his way to work.

I fell asleep again and when I woke up it was around 9. So, I called the OB office and they told me I could come in to see a doctor. I felt very sick this morning- both my pregnancy nausea and my normal stomach issues. So, it took a while to leave the house and required a bathroom stop during the 40-minute drive to the office. Jason met me there and waited during my visit. I had a hard time giving a urine example, but it was enough for them to do a pregnancy test. It was still positive, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think that was an important indication so early after the onset of symptoms. The nurse told me I was right.

It was my first time meeting the doctor. Other than the fact that he resembled my brother-in-law far too much to be doing the job, he was pretty good at all that “stuff.” He said I was looking at 3 scenarios: an etopic pregnancy, a normal pregnancy with spotting as a symptom, or an abnormal pregnancy. He ruled out the etopic pregnancy with the exam. He said everything looked normal and that 50% of women have spotting during their first trimester. (I’m pretty sure that’s a generous statistic from all I have read.)

I thought I understood what he was saying, but upon driving home, I realized I was a bit confused. In his office consultation, I asked if this could just be normal, and his response included the phrase “threatened miscarriage.” That’s with the normal not the abnormal pregnancy? I should have brought Jason back for consultation. His questions would have probably irritated me but I would have left the visit with a greater understanding undoubtedly.

The doc sent me to have blood work done. I’m severely dehydrated. She tried taking it from my hand to no avail and was finally able to do so from a vein on the outside of my forearm. They are testing my HCG levels and then will again on Wednesday to compare if the levels are going up or down. I will also have an ultrasound on Wednesday to see if the baby’s there. Then, I have a follow-up appointment with the doctor on Thursday morning to discuss everything.

Since I got home from the doctor’s appointment, I almost wasn’t spotting at all. Then, around 6, there is bright blood again. I can’t tell if I am cramping or not. I don’t know whether to call any general discomfort a cramp. Then, I will feel certain there is a cramp, and it is just gas.

I worked myself up to looking at the miscarriage chapter in the pregnancy book, but I couldn’t read too much before I had to put it down. It said that several days of spotting was a sign of miscarriage. I don’t understand how that correlates with the whole idea that it is normal for some women to spot during pregnancy. I guess it has to do with amount and endurance. It also said that a lack of symptoms such as breast tenderness was a sign. Although I am still feeling the general nausea all day long, my breasts are no longer tender.

I feel certain I have or am in the process of losing this baby.

It Takes Two Baby

2009-08-21T15:25:00.000-07:00

For about a week, I was waking up with very sore breasts. I didn't think much of it at first and contributed it to PMS symptoms. It didn't really occur to me that it wasn't the right time for that. A couple of those days though, it did occur to me that it was different than the normal PMS breast tenderness. It reminded me very much of the times many (many, many, many) years ago when I breastfed the boys. There was a fullness to them, as if I might start leaking at any minute.

Then, it was kind hard to overlook the fact that I was going to pee a lot, like every 20-40 minutes, a lot.

So, on Friday night (8/14), late in the night after everyone was in bed, I googled pregnancy symptoms. In retrospect, I have can no longer refuse that I was in denial because even females that haven't been through this lil journey before know that sore breasts and frequent urination were symptoms of pregnancy. Web MD confirmed these suspicions. Then, of course, I deleted that day's history because I was being "ridiculous" and didn't want Jason to see what I had been looking at.

Saturday nothing significant happened and I didn't think much about it. On Sunday, as I was getting dressed, I walked past the dresser mirror naked and noticed immediately that my breasts looked different. I told that gal in the mirror, that certainly couldn't be me, "you're pregnant."

Nonetheless, I got dressed and engaged in Sunday's goal- to clean our bedroom. I tried to find a movie to watch as I did. Of course, every screen listed some movie related to pregnancy or babies. So, I settled on "He Said, She Said" and started to clean.

I didn't see much of the movie though because a mental flip switched and I decided to go to Farm Fresh and get a pregnancy test. Like a 16 year old girl with her boyfriend waiting in the car, I lurked through the pharmacy aisles looking for the boxes to no avail. Then, I saw they were in a locked cabinet at the pharmacy counter. Of. course. they. were. So, I had to ask the pharmacist for one... and yes, of course, I blabbered on to give the impression it wasn't for me. Something to the effect of, "She said to make sure I got the EPT."

I paid for the test at the pharmacy and snuck it, peeking over my shoulder and under stalls, into the bathroom. Why did I decide to do this in the public bathroom of a grocery store? Well, let me at least attempt to justify by saying that it is a very large and clean and moderately new bathroom... but mainly, when it said negative, I wanted to throw away all the evidence before I came home.

So... I tried... and... of course... for the first time in many days... I. could. not. pee.

I grabbed a large bottle of Dasani and chugged it as I unecessarily stressed over what kind of pasta to buy. Then, I headed back to the bathroom. I was a bit peeved that you were forced to buy 2 pregnancy tests. Was I supposed to stash the second one in my sock drawer to have handy the next time I thought I was pregnant?

So, the stick was wet. I placed the cap back on and rested it on my leg. It was a digitial test so there was a flipping little hourglass to show that it was working. The instructions said that it would take 3 to 5 minutes for the result. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and the ridiculous thing read "Pregnant."

Well, that can't be right, I thought as I suddenly understood the logic of including two tests and failingly tried to do the second one. I needed some "recovery time." So, I grabbed the few things I needed from the store and went across the street to Belk, a department store. I walked around in the baby clothes for a few minutes feeling completely numb. I considered laying against a rack, just so overwhelmed by it all. However, I realized how pathetic that would look and considering my already present "nonbaby girth," they very well may think I was a woman in labor.

So, I went to the Belk bathroom and took the second pregnancy test. Same result. Wow.

Seriously?

2009-08-20T16:45:00.000-07:00

I am 37 years old.
My youngest son turned 13 earlier this week.
My older son will turn 17 next month.
Two weeks ago, my husband had a vasectomy.

and...
I'm pregnant.
Seriously.

Conscious Eating

2009-07-26T20:13:00.000-07:00

This is that time during the year- after summer school and before new year planning- that I vow to build an organized life and start eating better. It predates the next phase by 4-6 weeks when I will mourn not having gotten my life organized or my eating habits better.

On Thursday of this past week, I was faced with a common building block that creates the wall that obstructs me from moving forth on the path to better eating. I needed to go to the grocery store. We were out of... simply... everything. I knew that I had needed to go to the store for a few days, but I wanted to take inventory of what was in the freezer and cupboards and make a shopping list so I could plan meals... but I needed to read more books or magazines to help me know what to plan to eat... but I hadn't had "the time" to read the material, take the inventory, or make the list. So, finally I just had to throw my hands up (yet again) and just go to the store... and $135 later the cart included the necessities for one actual meal and a lot of other STUFF.

I had planned on making spaghetti for dinner, but was "too tired" when I got home to deal with it. For lunch, I tried the Morning Star Ginger Terryaki Veggie Cakes and they were really good... but then, I whole-heartedly agreed with Jason's suggestion to pick up Chinese on the way home.

I started Friday morning with a measured amount of Special K with chocolate chips and SOY milk. I measured just because I wanted to become more visual with understanding portion sizes to my food. I tried soy milk for the first time and, probably because I have been drinking skim milk for a long time, I didn't taste any difference. The difference, instead, was that it didn't upset my stomach. The boys and I went to Water Country for the day and I had a cheese steak with chili cheese fries for lunch and 2 cheeseburgers, fries, and Sweet Tea from McDonalds on the way home.

Saturday morning, Jason and I went to Fred's for breakfast and then hit the Farmer's Market. The prices were really good and I got a nice small variety of vegetables and a watermelon, planning to visit on a regular basis. For lunch I cut up watermelon and made grilled cheeses. I planned to make "The Spaghetti" again for dinner, but convinced Jason to take me to Applebee's. I decided to get the BBQ Chicken Salad, which I recognize is not the healthiest of salads but definately a better choice than my norms... but then we got the Spinach-Artichoke dip as part of a special and I came home to make German Chocolate cake of which I ate two peices while watching Twilight with the boys.

With the afore mentioned cake I had a tall glass of milk... which, unsurprisingly, led to a very sick morning... and when Jason tried to make "The Spaghetti" for dinner I cried that was MY meal and vowed to make it tomorrow as I ordered $45 worth of pizza.

SO

It seems that it is much easier to start the day right than finish it so. Planning and preparation are going to be key points in making the transitional to eating better. I need to make sure "the right" foods are readily available... with alternatives... and I think it would help to start each day with a blue print of what I will most likely eat. Snack attacks and having the dinner hour creep up on me when I am "too tired" to do anything are my two major danger zones. Having snack alternatives is crucial as is menu planning. That menu planning would help to accomplish both goals of being more organized and eating better. Of course, that would mean finding "the time" to take inventory and make lists. Funny how everything comes full circle, eh?

Summer Vacation 2009

2009-07-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

We've been back a few days now from summer vacation. Ten days in Pennsylvania. I had debated going to Orlando instead, which was next year's plan, because I was afraid to miss out on the many good deals being offered to military families right now. However, when our friends' wedding was planned in PA for a Saturday in July and Jason's family reunion was planned for the subsequent Saturday, also in PA, the vacation plan basically outlined itself.

The hard part was that the wedding was scheduled on the Saturday following the Friday that ended summer school. So, there was little time for extensive planning or rest before hitting the road. I wrapped up the semester in record-time, deposited the check in the bank, did some final packing and hit the road. It was a smooth 6 hour drive to Harrisburg, a central spot we decide to camp (not literally) at for the week, before moving north for reunion. It was one of those drives that made us question why we don't travel more often.

The wedding was an absolute fairy tale. It was like a movie- everything that a wedding "should" be. The service was at St. Patrick's Cathedral. I realized that it was the first time I had ever been in a Catholic Church... and likely to be the last. The formality of it was so foreign to me. Mother Theresa is one of my personal heroes so I am not doubting the ability of a Catholic to form a close relationship with God. However, I don't feel that I could in that atmosphere... not too mention that I am just too fat and lazy for all the stand up, sit down, and kneeling. The reception was at a country club trimmed with all the traditional events... plus an open bar. There was no one there we knew, except our friends; they expressed such gratitude that we made the trek to their event that it made me all the happier that we did also. I was glad too that the boys were able to be there and see how such things were, being an only child myself and Jason's family not being the most traditional bunch, it's probably one of the few chances they will get until their own friends are marrying.

We went to Gettysburg for two days. This is the part of the trip I was lamenting the most. I had even contemplating staying at the hotel and sending Jason with the boys for the day. I dread anything related to history, only in part due to my complete ignorance of it. Jason didn't believe me the previous week when I told him I didn't even know what Gettysburg was. I was being honest. Surprisingly, it was my favored part of the trip. When we arrived, Jason made the offhand comment about how different things may have been had the South won the war. I concede that my images of Confederate flags and stereotypical rednecks may have been excessive. What really made me think though was the tour guide's emphasis on how this massive war was one in which Americans were killing Americans. That, was a devastating concept to absorb. So much of the area has been untouched that it was easy to imagine the battle scenes being described- well, as easy as could be with my modern mentality. The battlefields are peppered with monuments to the fallen soldiers and battalions. The second day that we went back to the area, we spent the greater part just driving around and looking at the memorials. I learned that Gettysburg was the turning point of the war, even though it continued for the next two years. I learned that General Meade was the winning force at Gettysburg for the Union although he had just taken charge, reluctantly, three days prior to the battle. We did a bus tour of the area that was very educational. We also bought a package of tickets to 6 museums that were complete tourist traps. I saw enough wax figures that we could melt them down to make candles to light birthday cakes for every person in America for the rest of their lives.

We also spent a couple of days at Hershey Amusement Park. Now, that was as dreadful as I imagined it would be. Cameron doesn't like to do most rides and that is accompanied with Jason's frustration because he won't. Add to that the fact that I have stopped doing rides over the past few years... because I fear those signs "Ride will not accomodate guests of larger size" applied to me. I spent most of the two days walking from bench to bench to sit and read. I did don a bathing suit and hit the wave pool one day though... for a very brief time until a mom (of a possibly terrified toddler) told me that you could see right through the back of my bathing suit. Upon closer inspection in the changing room mirror, I learned if you have been wearing a bathing suit for three (or more) years, you really need to check the material for wear... especially in the obscene places. I think Jason and Justin did all 11 roller coasters, and by the second day I had coaxed Cameron to give a few a try, which he did, and enjoyed (thankfully).
We went to Lancaster for one day, Intercourse and Bird-in-Hand. We didn't have a real itinerary so we hung out in the town center for the most of the day. We saw some movie about the Amish and toured through a (set-up) house. We had lunch and did some shopping. I was quite disappointed to discover that everything closed at five, and I was unable to get a pretzel. We did manage to find a late buggy ride though... unfortunately, I completely forgot how allergic I was to horses until I was wheezing in the back of the carraige, gasping for air. Interestingly, Cameron says this was his favorite part of the vacation. What I found most interesting was the juxtaposition of simple life to modern life, such as the buggies and wagons (and scooters!) alongside the cars on the freeway. An 85 year old woman with more than 100 grandchildren was having a funeral right on the outskirts of town that day, so we saw a lot of Amish "traffic." I was worried that I was objectifying them, but when Jason talked to them, they seemed perfectly fine with the money that tourists provided to their economy. My guess is that they have become much more assimilated to mainstream society than Amish communities in more remote areas. The simplicity of life is fascinating to me, but I am no fool to think it is a life I would want.
The final leg of our vacation was traveling to Meadville for family reunion. I realize I probably sounded like I was a complete grump this entire trip, because it seems I am complaining a lot in recounting it... and while I am sure there were days I made it less bearable, overall, I tried to keep the perspective that the boys were enjoying it and that was my goal. By the time for reunion though, I really was just ready to go home already. Jason only recently connected with his father and that side of the family, so this kind of event is important to nurturing that bond. But there are certain family members that just wallow in their disfunction and I have to be really steeled to deal with them, and after the week on vacation, my defenses were down. We went to dinner and to see Harry Potter Friday night. On Saturday, was the picnic reunion. Both nights, I tried to go out with Jason and his brothers but was just so exhausted that I didn't make it at all on Friday and just for leg one of the festivities on Saturday.

On Sunday, I drove the 9-hour trek back to Virginia. That's rather amazing for me, seeing how I can barely stand to be enclosed in a car for more than an hour. However, I was anxious to get home, especially to my parrot, and didn't want to listen to Jason's radio choices anymore. So, I enjoyed the quiet drive... although my mind kept creating mental lesson plans and calendars for the school year.

The Final Highs and Lows of a Sophomore

2009-06-09T19:34:00.000-07:00

I had been metally blogging, waiting to actually put fingers to keys, planning to write about exciting events in the boys final weeks of school. Then, a little wrench got thrown into that plan. Last week was the various assemblies and awards ceremonies at school. On Monday, was the Academic Awards Ceremony. This is when I also give out the K-Club Awards. Justin earned the most Key Hours again this year. Playing a third sport this year, I wasn't quite sure he was going to do it... and, honestly, I was hoping he didn't. Last year, we initiated the "McCormick Humanitarian Award," named in honor of our devoted sponsors for 20+ years. It was awarded to the Clubber with the most hours of service to the club. Justin won. He would have won this year too but I tossed the award... not that anyone noticed... because I just didn't want the ribbing or the drama about it. He told me driving home one day this week that he didn't like going on stage and they called him/it "gay" when he was called up. Yet, I know he checks every time I post hours to see if he has the most. I guess its one of those high school conflicts. Maybe next year I will remember to offer not to include his name and see if that conflict quickly resolves.

Thursday evening was the Sports Award Banquet. Justin won MVP for Cross Country. I should have had no doubt that he was going to win. He came in first for our school's team at every meet this year. Still, I was letting negativity get the best of me and was preparing to be confrontational if he didn't get it. I know it's ridiculous, yet I can't stop these dysfuctionally irrational ways of mine. I'm getting just a bit better about holding my tongue, but I have a far way to go with that. I made everything about the night miserable. I did not want to sit with the people who joined our table. I didn't eat because I was told their would be baked chicken and there wasn't. The only times I come close to living in the moment is when I am in this mode of negativity and complaining. I think I managed to dump it all on Jason and spare Justin, at least.

I am proud of Justin. Like with most things in his teenage life, I think he could excel further with more effort. Running comes easy to him. I wish would he would develop a drive to push himself in the sport... but he has that "good enough" attitude like he does about most things. We had not even left the school yet when Jason commented about needing to be ready for someone to be on his heels next year. I'm disappointed he tried to rob Justin's moment of pride like that. I know he didn't mean it to be detrimental and that he was proud of Justin because he came home and woke up Cameron to congratulate Justin, but he... we... need to find the right ways to be more supportive.

Friday was the in-school Athletic Awards and he received his certificates for Cross Country, Basketball, and Soccer. I guess he earned hashes or lil sports symbols for his letters but I won't get those kinds of things from him without asking.

As for the low. I have been at work until 9 or later the past two night. It's the last week of school and I have an insurmountable amount of work to get through by Friday. My phone died last night. When I came home and plugged it in, there was a message from one of the kids at school asking me if Justin was as devastated as Allie. I asked him what he was talking about although I had this sinking feeling I already knew. Yes, they broke up. After 7+ months, an eternity in high school years, the relationship has ended. I'm not at all surprised really. Justin hasn't been attached to his cell phone like a fifth limb in more recent weeks. I wonder how much being grounded from his cell phone cooled a relationship built on texting. They haven't did much of anything together in near a few months now. Honestly, I guess I might be at a smidgen of fault for that. I guess I could have planned things, but honestly, it seemed like Justin was game for whatever Allie suggested but if Justin were to want to do something, Allie may or may not be interested in coming along.

After collecting bits and piecies where I could because Justin definately didn't want to talk to me about it, it seems like a pretty mutual parting of ways. Allie said things didn't feel like they did before (welcome to reality chickie) and that led to them deciding to break up. Justin really gave me the impression that he was the pathetic puppy that told her he would always be here if she wanted him back BUT he apparently has no qualms talking to anyone other than me about it because his World History teacher (!!!) told me about another girl that he is interested in and how he thinks they have so much in common. He seems to be taking everything perfectly in stride to go from believing just last week they were destined for marraige to being single and evaluating potential matches.

I watched him some throughout the day and it was odd. They texted on the way to school but when they went in the gym to wait for the morning bell, Justin went back to his pre-Allie crowd and she went back to hers (just a few bleachers apart) and at lunch she went back to her table. She also crossed her name off the Cross Country list (and changed to hockey) and deleted me from her Facebook. It's like a time-traveled rewind. Like the relationship never happened... for over 7 months. I just hope Justin is as okay as he seems. Another reason I was not surprised by the developments was because now that Justin had his phone back, when I have taken it from him, there have been peices of lingering text conversations from 2 or 3 girls, not Allie.

I guess the timing is good with today being the last day of school. Justin is exempt from all of his exams. I am really surprised he passed his 3 SOLs. His grades are, of course, not where I want them to be... but we survived. Only two more years until graduation and I am terrified of what the years after that will behold for Justin. His options grow more narrow with each passing year.

Relay for Life 2009

2009-06-06T16:16:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday was the Relay for Life in our community. The K-Club had a team for the second year. Last year we raised less than a thousand dollars. I found out about the different contests on the day of Relay and I spent too much time, money & stress on those and lost focus on the whole experience... especially when it became obvious that the games were all just politics anyway with no "real" winners.

This year I went into Relay season with the attitude that our primary goal was to raise as much money as we could and not allow myself to get stressed about any of it. I did pretty good with that goal, for the most part- except for a couple of weak moments in the final hours. The team raised almost $3,000. I can't be exactly sure because I misplaced an envelope of checks... that I can still find and send in (hopefully). We had the yard sale/ car wash plus did an in-school collection and the team members raised money on their own. I did remove one member that did not raise any money but have interacted with her since and there's been no drama, thankfully.

The theme of this year's Relay was "The USS Cure." We kept it simple using a tropical theme and I asked team members to bring any items they had to help decorate. NO one brought in ANYTHING. So, late Friday I gathered things from the Dollar Store and Wal-Mart. However, once pulling out all the decorations from last year's homecoming that I saved plus having some stuff Julie added to the cause, the only thing I even opened up that we bought was a tablecloth. The trick now is to make myself get around to taking the other items back. So... wasted money and stress.

During the Relay, we participated in some games, avoided others. But then, we were personally asked to make a team for the "Not so New" to Relay game. Justin and I teamed up and quite possibly could have won had they any idea about how to play. We were given 5 (I think) questions about Relay, but then instead of guessing if we knew what the other person said, they instead, judged if our answers matched. I got a little tiffed, but managed to keep it in perspective.

I blog this now, so hopefully I will look back next year at Relay time and remember how right I was to focus on fundraising and not decorating or competing... and stick to that purpose even a little more next year. It's a good way to end the year. I am surprised that we raised so much in basically three weeks. I had to carry the brunt of the work, like with most things, but I am okay with that and am keeping my expectations realistic with the teens.

One of the team members alerted me there was a pic of Justin & me playing the game on the local newspaper website. I am surprisingly not allowing myself to be traumatized by this.

There is a lot of emotion wrapped up in the Relay experience. I really cheated myself out of most of it. The Survivor Lap, this year and last, made me teary-eyed. I think the most devastating this about cancer is its nondiscrimination. Sure, there are risk factors for certain cancers- like smokers are more likely to develop lung cancers. But for most, there aren't. Anyone can and does get it. The number and proximity of those people is jarring. Second to that, I think the way in which cancer is more outstanding than other diseases is the visible, physical battle it has with its victims. It's a war. A shaved head. A chest with a scar where there once was a breast. The uncertainty of a life-span. The coming out of remission when you think the battle has been won.

Jason could not go with me to the Survivor's Dinner Friday night because of his PRT diet. Then, Leannah couldn't go because she was too tired from the Senior picnic. So Julie came with me instead, and honestly, I would rather have went with Julie than either of the other two. She also came and hung with me during the afternoon of the Relay and stayed through the luminary ceremony. I'm kind of awed by that sacrifice of time because I have never had many friends and am less than rarely the recipient of such generosity... or people that just want to be around me that long. I'm a bit disgusted with myself at the jokes I made of cancer and Relay to her audience. I have had people in my periphery and extended family battle or die of cancer, but no one that I felt really affected my life. Julie's dad died of cancer though and she has a young nephew that overcame it. Had I been solemn and serious about the whole situation, I know she would have too. Names like "Harry Colon" read during the luminary ceremony were a little hard not to give attention to though. She wasn't offended. She is not one to offend easily. But, I look back on it and wished, perhaps, I hadn't been so crude. I don't know why I do that kind of thing. I do it often, blowing off the work I do for many community programs and charities. I want to be "cool" for DOING it not for acting like it's all a fascade.

Reality is Surreal

2009-05-25T19:17:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day Weekend. Saturday morning, I slapped the snooze button a few times before crawling out of bed to meet the K-Kids for a Yard Sale & Car Wash Fundraiser for our Relay for Life Team. There was a good turn-out of kids and we raised almost $600 after deducting expenses. It was a success.

Saturday evening, Jason & I went to Kincaids for dinner and to see "Wicked." It was splendidly excellent. I was so distracted by the people around me- from the obnoxious laughter of the teen girl three seats down trying to fake her undevoted enthrallment to the woman rattling her bag of nuts next to me to the old Japanese guy next to me after I moved that kept using his cell phone to see where we were in the list of songs for the production. Then, the guy that sat in front of me after I moved had just a few hairs gelled up in the front of his head that was unreasonably disturbing to my line of view. I wonder how much I let stuff like this bother and distract me and how much may be related to true anxiety issues. Walking out of the theatre there was a kid that kept slapping his folded program against his palm and I wanted to yell at him.

We had not yet pulled out of the parking garage when I was hit with this feeling of being removed from the experience. It was only 15 or 20 minutes ago that I was sitting in the theatre enjoying the play, but it could just as easily have been 2 or 3 months ago. I remember feeling this way after Convention also. I had just come home and shortly after walking through the door it was as if I hadn't been gone for three days having such a wonderful time. For Convention next year, I told myself that I would not take work and I would clean the house before leaving, so I could enjoy the expereince more and not come home stressed. But that doesn't really apply to Saturday night's situation. I want to live in the moment more. I want to be afftected by life more. I have to figure out how to do this.

May

2009-05-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

May is CRAZY month. There's my Birthday, Mother's Day, and Teacher's Appreciation Week. It should be a very "Celebrate Me" month. Instead it's a very BUSY month. It seems like every charitable organization wants to plan their Big Event in May. The K-Club has something going on all but one weekend from mid-April until June.

This past weekend, we had events on both Saturday & Sunday. Neither went well. It should have been an easy weekend because all we had to do was "show up." I didn't have to plan anything or worry about dropping the perverbial ball that I always do. Saturday was a community day sponsored by one of the local women's club. This is the 3rd or 4th year we have provided the volunteers for this event. My kids work the games and wear costumes. I won't apologize for being boastful about my kids but this event could not happen if it weren't for us. So, am I wrong in expecting the least bit of gratitude for that? The woman that ran the event was... not nice. She was rude to my kids all day long and when I walked to restaraunt a couple of buildings down to grab some breakfast, she complained that I left the kids unattended. Prior to the event, when she had sent the e-mail requesting our help again, she made a snide remark about another high school group in the area. So, I don't really trust that she won't make comments about us now too. Everything the kids did was wrong from not wearing costumes long enough to giving too many prizes for the games to eating while they were working a game. And, there may have been minor issues, expected of teenagers, but nothing that was worth the attitude we were given.

Then, Sunday was the March of Dimes Walk. It was pouring and I was getting text after text from kids claiming to be sick as if the storm had blown the swine flu into town. All the posters for the event said the walk was to start at 1:00. But when I spoke to the coordinator last week, she said that she had to move the time to 2 because that is what March of Dimes had set. So, when myself and the 5 K-Club kids willing to get drenched for the event showed up, despite the reiteration RAIN or SHINE, no one was there. After driving a couple of aimless circles, I called the coordinator's cell phone and asked what was the event status. She said a bunch of cars showed up at 12:30 and they drove through the course. And, better yet, once they had returned as I am at an ultimate level of frustration over the event, she tells me that the region was short of their goal by $3000 and could I help raise that.

Tonight was the epidemy of the CRAZINESS that is May. After school I went to Bear Path Acres to pick up the geanie pig that Deb keeps"encouraging us to adopt," dropped the boys at home with Penelope (the new geanie pig), went to Roses to pick up Bingo Prizes and dropped them off at the Nursing Home for tonight's K-Club Bingo. While I am doing this, Jason is going around town trying to find us a place to have a car wash for the Relay for Life fundraiser Saturday. Then, I came home and spent my evening painting the cornhole games for a Habitat for Humanity fund raiser.

I wish I could be as energetic, organized, and benevolent as my life makes it seem I am.

Another Year... closer to death

2009-05-07T21:34:00.001-07:00

It's 12:33 a.m. so I guess it is officially my birthday even though I will go to bed tonight and wake up afresh to the day tomorrow. I will be 37. I actually had to figure that out a couple of weeks ago. I wasn't sure whether I was 35 or 36. I remember faulting my mother for the same thing.

I'm very tired. I had to drive to VA Beach tonight (Thursday, school night) to pick up 180 boxes of donuts for the Relay for Life fundraiser. As usual, I don't feel like writing... but I thought as I came home and checked the empty mailbox tonight that how if at least I posted occasional tabs I could look back and actually remember what happened over the past year in my life.

The significant things that stick out in my mind right now are finishing my First Masters class, the award my K-Clubs got at Convention... and telling Jason to move out. Of course, how recent those events are lend to them being on the top of my mind.

I have felt profoundly sad all night. I eventually determined it was due to the complete failure I feel like as a mother. Justin is failing both World History and Biology. I don't know what his other grades are because, despite Jason's repeated request, the other teachers have not e-mailed us. Driving home from school tonight Just asked me what he had to do to pass or something like that. Then, he made it clear what he was actually asking was what was the minimum grade he could get this quarter and still pass the class. That kid. That kid is my kid. I'm ashamed and embarrassed. Yet, I do nothing. I do more for the world at large than my own boys. It's like those rich families where the parents are out jet-setting and the nannies care for the kids. Excpet we're not rich and there's no one left to care for the kids.

Jason called me when I was on my way to VA Beach to tell me that Justin was crying because his head hurt so bad. Something I've blown off. I'm pretty sure it's sinuses but haven't bought him the right medicine to try until tonight.

I have got to get my life in order.

Spring Break 2009

2009-04-19T12:43:00.000-07:00

Jet-lagged and hung over from the return flight from Cancuun. Sunburned in precarious places after starring in "Mom's Gone Wild" videos.

Eh, maybe not. Spring Break, as should have been perfectly expected, began serene and productive, then raced by and leaves me on this final day feeling the anxiety caused by reoccuring mental lists of all that did not get done.

We let out of school at 1:00 on Good Friday. Jason had duty so I went for lunch (& drinks) with co-worker friends. One had a horrid day that made my school/work drama of the day seem a little less significant. I tried sangria for the first time... and second... and it was glorious. I came home at 4-ish. Opened both bedroom windows to a very mild and breezy day and slept (perhaps, even passed out... just a bit.) I stayed in bed the rest of the evening and through most of Saturday.

In retrospect, I should have gotten out of bed at 2-ish Saturday so I could have richly indulged in sleeping in but not have felt the tinge of cabin fever later in the evening. But, stay in bed I did... with the windows still open and the layers of green pollen on the dressers thickening. I watched a few spots of television and did some reading for my Masters class, but mostly I slept on & off. About 11 Saturday night I watched "Seven Pounds." Justin fell asleep early in the movie. I, of course, had no issues staying awake. Gut-wrenching is probably the best adjective I could use to describe the movie. That is how it left me feeling, a bit twisted inside... with a heaviness.

The big goal of Sunday was gutting out Justin's room. I had slated this chore for Spring Break a while ago because I wanted the image of what I though was a clean bedroom and what Justin thought was a clean bedroom to be congruous and I saw this as possible only with a fresh starting point. I had also planned for a while to paint his bedroom and bought a new bed-in-a-bag set for him (since his comforter had a pre-schooler train cartoon theme).

Monday I got the room painted. I walked away from it throughout the day, mostly to read for my class. The book, Ormond, was absolutely horrid to get into, but then the plot became interesting although the writing style would occasionally revert back to painful. I had forgotten how much difference a coat of paint could make. Even the process of painting could be stress-relieving... if I let it. Monday evening, of course, is also when I figured out the taxes.

Tuesday was basically an extension of Monday's activities. Everything was moved back into Justin's bedroom and I finished reading the novel for class. I was scheduled to have a mammogram at 3:30- my first- but I cancelled it for the sake of getting things done. As I went to post about my reading, the server was down... which means I could have just went to the mamogram and finished the book on the road, but oh well. Tuesday night I had class.

Wednesday we were supposed to go to Norfolk to get new IDs. Next month will be one year since Jason adopted the boys and I had yet changed their names on birth certificates, social security cards or military IDs. I had a lot of paperwork at home to do though- always so much damn paperwork- TAXES, bills, and something I needed to send Key Clubbers. So, I nixed the idea of going to Norfolk, which was really only a bad thing because Allie (Justin's girlfriend) was supposed to come with us and couldn't go the next day. The taxes were completed, but bills are still lingering and I fould an alternative- the trusty and teen-appropriate mode of communication...texting- to contact Key Clubbers about the upcoming project. Wednesday I layed around mostly, didn't accomplish much.

Thursday, the boys and I went to Norfolk and they got their new IDs. I met with Jason for lunch at the Mall. Then, he took the boys home and I spent some time alone at the mall. I lounged in Barnes and Noble for a while, mainly looking through the new health & diet book by Bethenny Frankel. I went to see "Sunshine Cleaners," which I had heard nothing about but looked the closest to a chick flick on the marque. Mistake. It was a disturbing movie about two sisters that start a business cleaning up crime scenes. A few too many gooey blood scenes made it easy not to finish my popcorn. I picked up Justin a couple of shirts. And, I went into a few shops in which I would never fit in the clothes. It was interesting to step outside of myself and look at how I handled being in those stores. If the clerk didn't speak to me, I figured they realized I would never fit into the clothes and thought I was wasting their time. If a clerk did speak to me, I questioned why they bothered since I would never fit into anything in the store.

On Friday, the boys, Allie and I went to Busch Gardens. I painfully was not up for the adventure. The traffic on the way there and waiting for the ferry on the way back turned a 3 hour trip into a 6 hour one. Not to mention the lines, and lines, and lines. Justin and Allie went off on their own. Cameron and I layed on the rocking swing and we ate and sat around and did nothing. Cameron is now too chicken to do rides and I didn't feel too bad about punishing him by making him waste the day with me. It was hard not to notice how sloooow I moved about throughout the day.

On Saturday, The K-Club kids went to the local animal habitat/zoo to volunteer 10-2. The day turned out much better than I would have imagined. I think the kids had fun and many were even inspired to help out more. Afterwards. We had lunch at Mexican (while Justin slept in the car) and then I came home and napped. After getting up, I started cleaning.

Today, is Sunday- anxiety in overrdrive. Jason, thankfully, has been gone all day with the boys fishing while I spin circles overwhelmed by all that I have to do and didn't do that I don't know where to to start or what to do.

Tax Day

2009-04-15T19:10:00.000-07:00

Paperwork is my albatross... from the mundane task of taking daily attendance in class to paying bills on time to the big yearly pain of doing taxes. Two night ago... yes, April 13th... I finally sat down to do our taxes.

We owe. We owe $1,195.44. I didn't even have to look that figure up. It is seered into my brain like when you look at a bright light and then close your eyes and the image is seared into the back of your eyelids.

I have never owed taxes before, neither has Jason. He has two children from his first marriage. According to their divorce agreement, he claims the oldest on his taxes and the ex claims the youngest. Well, the oldest turned 18 in January of 2008. So, we can no longer claim her as a dependant, or get a child tax credit for her, and had not made adjustments to our exemptions to balance out the difference that would make our taxes at the end of the year.

The difference is $1,195.44. Jason faults me in the situation. It is my fault that I did not tell him to change the exemptions from his paycheck. It is my fault for waiting so long to do the taxes and figure this out. I suppose both of these facts are true. As the one who handles our finances, I should have been more proactive in the situation... seeing as how it involves paperwork, and seeing my admitted shortcoming to handling paperwork though, I did not.

Jason was easily able to on-line last night and change his exemptions so hopefully we've curbed this problem from happening again next year: this $1,195.44 problem. The truth is that I am the one who should change exemptions. Jason lowered his from 3 to 2. I think I am still claiming 5. We have almost the same taxable income (because a portion of his- being military, such as housing allowance- is not), but he had almost double the amount of taxes taken from his check last year than I did. The safeguard here for me though is to keep as much money as possible coming into the general house fund. For Jason to reduce his take home pay affects his personal bank account. I just dump my whole check into the household account (and spend freely from there as I wish) and to reduce my check would take from that.

I also decided to track expenses better and look more closely at the option of itemizing deductions next year. I began a notebook today in which I will keep a running list of all my charitable expenses. In surfing for a way to (unsuccessfully) make the $1,195.44 magically disappear, I found that I can take credit for the mileage I drive to volunteer. A small expense that will add up very quickly for me. I also would like to see the tangible log of my charitable deeds. I want to be a more benevolent person. I think logging such contributions will make that happen. Today I made a list of items not "worthy" of the yard sale fundraiser I am considering next month and then took them to Goodwill and got a receipt to attach to the list. I also made a list of the bag of Cub Scout supplies I plan on donating to the local troop.

I have not looked at state taxes yet. Since this is only a concern for me, and not for Jason- who by military standards is a Florida resident and has no taxes- I let myself put off the task too often. I am not even sure what years I have and haven't paid taxes, because, of course, my paperwork is not in order- if even existent.

I need to face that demon because in addition to the $1,195.44 we have had so many expenses come or coming up. We charged $1200 on a new washer and dryer last month (because the dryer died and I wanted the fancy ones and a new washer to match). I had a new shower installed for which I charged $1500??? interest free for 6 months , which is nearing a close, and how much did I pay during that interest free time? $0. We charged truck tires and a new camera (which is currently lost) on Jason's Mastercard the month before (of which he doesn't know there are still outstanding balances from the parrot I bought last summer and maybe other lingerers). Cameron is getting braces next month, which requires a near $500 down-payment. I am picking up season passes for Busch Gardens/Water Country tomorrow, which I could care less about, but feel obligated to for the boys... should be over $400. Ah, and lets round off this list, which I am sure suffers some major oversights with the recently threatening letter accompanying the resurrected bill for nearly $6000 for a hospital stay 8 years ago when I first moved to Virginia, jobless and insuranceless. We, thankfully, live well within our means and are not effected by "The Economy" right now... but I have GOT to cure my aversion to paperwork and get these matters straight before something else falls in my lap... or the sinking foundation of the house from several ignored leaks falls from beneath us.

Slacker

2009-02-26T19:08:00.001-08:00

I had my first paper due for my first Master's class Tuesday night. I told myself that the weekend prior to it being due was completely blocked off... other than the heel-clicking good time at the Friday night dance... to work on it. I realize planned procrastination does not make it less of a "social crime" (whatever that term I just made up means).

I had a *nugget of an idea. When I went to find research on my chosen literature though, there was none, and I had to REALLY dig into the journal articles to find something vaguely applicable that I could manipulate to support my thesis. I could not wrap my head around how to just jump in and start writing the paper. I blamed it at that point on it having been 5 years since I was in a class (a "real" class... not on-line excuse-of-a-classes to get my liscense). Since (finally) completing the project, I think perhaps it had something to do with writing for a Professor degreed from YALE and publisher of MANY books and journal articles.

So, this is the process I went though...

1. Read through multiple journal articles... select the minimum 5 needed to reference in my paper.

2. Closely read over each article and underline any mildly relevant information.

3. Type (big) bullet form lists of pertinent info from each article.

4. Reread literature selection and take 36 hand-written notes on it.

5. Divide #3 into categories and retype info from multiple sources, now arranged by category and not journal author.

6. Reread and label hand-written notes on literature based on 6 categories & corrolate it with journal notes.

And, thus, about 30 hours of work and enough killed trees to affect the ozone layer later, I was ready to start my paper... except it was late Monday night. So, I worked on it until about 2 a.m. and then called in the next day with "Paper Flu" to finish.

It's taken some time to be less critical of myself, but I really like where it went. I wish I had 2 days to have walked away and went back to make sure all the connections were clear, which I'm pretty sure they were not. I'm thinking now though that it may be good enough to revisit and look at publishing eventually.

This is quite a turn of events from the inadequacy I have felt in that class as they use big words and refer to literature I have not read (read, as in previous classes, not as in the lit I am slacking from reading in this class).

I have no class for two weeks- the professor has a conference and then it is Spring Break. I have told myself I will get ahead on the reading, on my presentation, on the next paper... and go back to read the assignments I did not complete. The first night of class, I sat there a bit insulted there were other students in the class that had obviously, and quite often admittingly, not read the assignment... then I became one of those "kids." It's too easy to play along in a class like this. I want to drive myself more. I want to get the most I can out of this experience.

I only wished I believed just a smidgen I will will make good use of the 2 weeks out of class.

This Ain't No HIllbilly Hootinany

2009-02-21T19:10:00.000-08:00

The K-Club I "advise" at school hosted a Sadie Hawkins Dance last night. It was yet another experience to bust my 80's school-era bubble. Back in the day, we had dances on a regular basis... and people came. At this high school, we have Homecoming and Prom. The turn-out for those two events is good. However, when we have tried to have another dance, the dance floor has always been pretty empty.

It was with this knowledge that I allowed myself to agree to sponsor this dance. With this and the specific memory of the "Sock Hop" last year. It was a regular dance but the admission was a simple pair of socks (!) to augment one of the local toy drives. Other than SGA members that were "required" to be there, I think the head count was about 12 (!) students.

The least I can say is that we exceeded that. We hit the 50 mark, not much more. I do sincerely believe those that came had a really good time. We started promoting it with a "hillbilly hoedown" theme, but then got the feedback that wasn't an attracting feature. So, we switched gears with promotions and pressed the fact that there was a great dj... and on the side there would be cake walks and cornhole. In the end, of those who showed up, I think they enjoyed the cornhole and cake walk as much as they enjoyed the dancing. It was definately a unique event.

I cannot say that I am surprised by the turn-out. Mainly, I would have to say that I am disappointed with my K-Clubbers. At a meeting back at the inception of this idea, I asked how many thought it was a good idea, how many would want to be involved in making it happen, how many would attend, and on all 3 counts I had at least 50 affirmatives. Instead, I had about 10 follow through on those promises. I am even more disappointed at my two officers that plan to raise themselves in rank next year that avoided the whole fundraiser.

I guess I expect too much of these kids. I always feel guilty that I am not organized enough, not doing enough for them. Maybe that's an easier reality to accept than believing that kids don't want to be active & involved in anything. Once in a while I spark enough interest in them to make then get their required community service hours.

Our bookkeeper, who this position makes me see all too often, often makes comments about not seeing how I "do it all." When she makes these comments, I feel a bit guilty because I feel like the whole of my life is a sham held together with very fragile twine. I use to think I wanted to be the person my dog thought I was. I think now, I would rather be the person my bookkeeper thinks I am.

In the end, the expenditures for the dance were $523.46 (assuming the DJ will accept the drastically lower rate of $150). We made about $250 in profits. So, our fundraiser netted a NEGATIVE $275 (and that's not counting the $100 we were hoping to donate from it to Heifer International... making it a $375 lost). So, I can try to appease myself or allow myself to be appeased by the comments that those who came had a really good time, which I for the most part honestly believe they did, but I cannot deny the reality that as a fundraiser it failed... miserably.

2009

2009-01-01T16:29:00.000-08:00

So, it's a "N-E-W---Y-E-A-R"!!!!

Bleh...

To me, the year begins on the Monday after Labor Day, when school starts, and it is then that I make those pesky little resolutions that I have no chances of keeping. I believe the important one this year involved staying on top of paperwork, like attendance, lesson plans... yeah, didn't happen... not even sure it lasted the week, if even the first day.

At some point reasonably recently I had made the decision to make a post similar to this one on New Year's Eve and delete all the previous posts. Yes, I know, that faulted coping mechanism of mine that is the little girl standing on the playground shouting for a "do-over." When I went back and read the last few posts though, I realized that, eh, not too bad. At the very least, they weren't the whiny "I hate my life" rants that I thought had dominated my blog. So, I pardoned them and allowed them to live in the blog.

If the day ever comes that I allow folks in my "real life" to know about my blog, then I will have to review and reconsider posts... but, I don't see that happening any more than I see me posting on a regular basis as I envision.

So, if I were to make New Year's Resolutions, which I totally am not, these are the top five that come to mind:

1. Eat better in hopes of improving energy and decreasing stomach problems... lost weight would be a nice side benefit.

2. Be more money-concious. Pay bills on time and actually watch where my money was going.

3. Strengthen faith by attending church regularly, spending more time in prayer, and reading Scripture.

4. Work towards becoming more eco-friendly: RECYCLE! and make small steps towards more responsible living.

5. Manage my time better: use calendars and lists, plan out future events.

The Grinch versus The Kranks

2008-12-21T19:48:00.000-08:00

On Friday, I did all my Christmas shopping for the boys. Saturday morning, I wrapped their presents and packed them along with their clothes into the truck. Following breakfast with Jason, I shipped all of them- Jason, boys, and Christmas- to Ohio for the week.

One day last week, as we were driving to school in the morning, Cameron asked if Christmas was "next" Thursday. Although, at a conscious level I was aware of the looming date, it's proximity did not quite hit me until that point. I had not bought presents and the closest I had come to decorating was buying tissue boxes with snowmen on them.

At lunch, I asked Justin's basketball coach what the practice schedule was going to be like during Christmas break. I was quite surprised when he said that there would not be a practice until after Christmas. Immediately, the hamsters spinning the wheels in my head starting formulating a plan.

Jason has a month off from work during his transfer of commands. He had mentioned previously going to Ohio to visit his family and I immediately shot down the idea. The reason I gave was that we needed to focus on where we were putting our money as we prepare to buy a new house. In retrospect, a more convicting reason was that I did not consider it a break at all to be home alone once again with the boys... after having been for the 6 months he was deployed.

When the option presented itself though... that he and the boys could go to Ohio... and I could be home alone for a week... the plan looked much more attractive. And, so it came to be...

Of course, very few people saw the benefit in this plan that I did and thought that it was blasphemy bordering child neglect that I would not be with my family for Christmas. Those wise to my plans have been calling me "The Grinch" for the past week at work. There have been several comments about "Christmas with the Kranks" mentioned at the lunch table. Neither are relative though. Both those plots end with an awakening on the part of the main character(s) about the "true meaning" of Christmas... and, that's just not going to happen with me.

It's one year without waking up Christmas morning to watch the boys plow through presents wrapped under the Christmas tree. One year without a big meal that always gets cooked on the day after Christmas because we snack too much on Christmas Day to be in the mood for it.

That's it... we have no family, here... and not much else for tradition.
December 25th is nothing more than a Thursday on the calendar for me this year.

The boys will have presents to open. Jason and they will sit down to a big meal, I guess... just in Ohio, not here.

My prerogative for this week needs to be an aggressive cleaning of the house. Early step one in working towards my new house... in which I will have a very nice Christmas holiday next year.

Flagged

2008-11-14T17:33:00.000-08:00

Not surprisingly, I failed in the daily posting challenge. I lasted what- 2 days? In my defense, I was truly, greatly sick. I was not able to logically connect thoughts last weekend. However, that's not a good defense b/c I did not attempt to pick it back up post-illness either. Although, I really can't say "post-illness." Some repiratory symptoms are lingering.

My to-do list is still a mountain and I am still a life-time behind in... well, life. However, I am at peace with it. I can't really list denial as as an accomplishment though.

On the other hand, having one of my journalism students win a VHSL award for a sports feature on volleyball... now, THAT is definately an accomplishment. Moreso for him of course, but hey I'll coast along for the ride and favor it will grant me in the boss' eyes.

Another accomplishment... Justin made the basketball team. This is his 3rd season trying out for a winter sport and his 1st time making it. I admire his tenacity. I am not allowing myself coat tail rights for that one though because I let him try out for the team feeling pretty sure he wouldn't make it, thinking then, at least, I wouldn't be the bad guy for not letting him try. 22 games and 3 months of practices until 7 p.m. will punish me for such horrible intentions.

I can't feign any level of surprise that I failed at the blogging challenge- illness or not. My list of tasks abandoned is a mighty long one (see: Medifast posts). I saw that the location for Blogher this summer was posted- Chicago, again. Seeing the Blogher posts is what always inspires me to try this agin. I cannot say I have done anything near worthy enough to justify going this year, yet again.

At least I have a new excuse- the new house. I will have an office in the (theoretical) new house. And, it will be an environment that will encourage me to write. It's a magic house. Moving there will change many things about my life! You just wait and see!

Blue Winters & Sunday Nights

2008-11-02T15:52:00.000-08:00

I am participating in NaBloMo, posting daily for the month of November. I don't know if I'm doing "this thing" right... and of course, I'm basically too lazy to figure it out. So, I've been posting here and then cutting & pasting there, erring on the side of doing too much, rather than not enough. Like many others I am sure, I'm hoping this will be the impetus to getting me to write more... write better... but not today.

I missed out on the whole Daylight Savings Time, or end of Daylight Savings Time (?) as it may be. All the clocks we have reset themselves so it wasn't until about 2 this afternoon when I realized that I had been robbed of, at least, the knowledge of getting an extra hour of sleep- not that I hadn't already planned to skip church and had no actual "wake-up time" anyway.

I studied Nursing once upon a time. My minor in college was Psychology. I was never one of those people to feel psychosomatic symptoms just because I was studying them. That being said, once I read about Seasonal Affective Disorder, I did believe I have at the very least a hint of that. I more than dislike getting up when it is still dark in the morning and then coming home when it is near dark. It makes me want to come home and crawl in bed. The boys wanted to go outside and play tonight and I said it was too late and then looked at the clock and saw that it was only 5:30. Of course, in reading about the disorder, I see that the bouts of Depression in the dark months are accompanied by manic outbursts of energy in the Spring & Summer, and that's not likely to happen; so then I guess I am just being a hypochondriac.

It's Sunday. Sunday nights are my most dreaded nights of the week. My 2 favorite shows come on- "Desparate Housewives" & "Army Wives," but I think tonight is the season finale for one or both. Sunday nights come on a steam roller of stress of all that did not get accomplished over the weekend and all that the week ahead beholds. This is a particularly troubling week. All grades from quarter one are due on Wednesday. I am so behind grading papers, which creates a physical hurdle to conquer, but I am also seeing so many issues I should have tackled during the semester that I let slip through my fingers because I couldn't find the time to do grading.

-Insert here promises to be more organized and proactive next semester.

A Note on the Fridge Door

2008-11-01T20:23:00.000-07:00

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

~William Carlos Williams

My British Lit professor at CNU was enthralled with this poem. He often referred to it in conversations relating to the death of romance. He noted that couples no longer wrote letters to one another and if they were to leave a note on the refrigerator door it would be no more poetic than "Need Milk."

I also had a professor at CNU that wrote the book on Human Sexuality (seriously, Sanford Lopater, look it up) and he often remarked that cell phones killed romance. These were conversations that I had with professors only five years ago. Just that short time ago, cell phones were not as commonplace as they are today. So, the heights of communication between couples had just begun its slow deterioration.

I understood and agreed with both these professors. My relationship with Jason offered a testament to both theories. There have been many times that as he was driving home from work we would talk so long on the cell phones that when we sat down to dinner together, there was nothing more to say. This is a sharp contrast to the days before I had cell phone, when I would meet Jason for lunch and his hands would be covered with ink-smeared notes that he jotted on them while driving to lunch so he would not forget all the things he wanted to talk about.

This came to mind afresh today because when I finally popped my negligent little bubble of denial and looked at our cell phone account, I saw that Justin was over his 250 text/ month allotment by 1,849 texts... with 11 days left to still go in the cycle. This hasn't been an issue before... but then, he started "talking" to a girl. Talking really meant texting, and texting often... very often, apparently. As he was typing away on the little numeric pad, I gave him several vague warnings that he did not have unlimited texts, but I did not pause to see how many there actually were until today (250) or how many he had actually sent (2,099 in 3 weeks). I was upset, not just at him, but equally- if not moreso- at myself, because I was so vague in my warnings; not addressing the issue in a way that needed response. Admittedly, I was too lulled by the idea of a girl that did want to talk to him so much. (Long story, short... I was an accomplice in Justin's first felony as I had him pose as Jason on the phone and call Verizon and add my name to the acount as an account manager, so I could call back and change the plan to unlimited- which was only $5 more per month vs. the $400 phone bill we were facing- and they even back-dated it to last month and gave me a credit, so I saved money.)

Anyway, more on my mind for writing was the breakdown of communication than the specifics of today's terrifying potential cell phone bill.

We took "The Girl" home from the Homecoming Dance. For the 15 minute ride she and Justin did not say a single word to one another. I really thought Justin must have not made the greatest impression. Alas, we barely had time to turn off her street after dropping her off before she texted him... "hey." Of the texts I have perused, I would say about 10% are "hey" (that "hey" almost cost me $40 today). She is painfully shy in person and they barely talk at school, even if sitting by one another or walking in the hall... but she can burn up a text.

Maybe it is a sign of aging, only seeing society on a downward slope... maybe it's the perspective of being an English teacher that sees how texting affects writing and how a lack of writing skills affects reading comprehension...

It just seems that the cost of technology is a lost of knowledge, logical thinking, intellectual stimulation. We are creating the society Ray Bradbury wrote about, and the quintessence of it is to be in a room of teens after school and rather than talk to one another, they are texting someone not there... and then they will text one another after they leave, rather than talk to one another while there. All forms of human communication are breaking down. It's going to affect the way we work together as a society. It's going to snowball into a huge downfall in civilization... communication is paramount to civilized behavior, what happens to a society when that basic building unit is lost?

My posting on ratemyteachers.com

2008-11-01T16:20:00.000-07:00

She is a dictator. She is fine with her students who are in the "English Club". Other than that she is more degrading and negative to her students. She rates herself as a witch w/ a capital B

Treats

2008-10-31T19:06:00.000-07:00

Why, yes... that was me you saw... at Wal-Mart... in the check-out line behind the 1st of the month crowd... buying Halloween costumes... on Halloween... at 5 p.m.... when we were due at the party that K-Club was running games for at 5:45.

Oh, yes... that was me too... in the candy aisle... buy not one, not two, but three... three family sized bags of candy. For Trick-or-Treaters? No. Remember, I was chaperoning the party at the Fire Dept that the K-Kids were working. No, that candy was for me. Not for the house... not for the boys... for me. Yes, of course, I will share it... generously... but I bought it for me, not them.

And again... we begin

2008-10-27T18:53:00.000-07:00

It is almost 10 at night and I am hungry. I am trying to embrace how that feels. The most dominant feeling is a light-headedness. When I try to concentrate beyond that to understand how it feels in my stomach, I can't, the mental disassociation is too great to allow to me feel what more is happening in my body. There is "some" feeling there in my stomach and it has traveled up through my chest, right to the nape of my neck, not to enter my throat, my mouth. But I am at a lost to describe how it feels. I am too disoriented to grasp the right word to descrbe it. I can't reach beyond the mental fog and slight dizziness- not unsimilar to a flu- to grasp the right words.

I could eat "something." But I am not going to. I woke up this morning and decided to give Medifast another try. Unlike many many other morning that I have awoken with the same urge, I made it past breakfast... and then past luch... dinner... and until almost 10 o'clock at night. I had 5 Medifast meals. I drank my water. I did not measure the Lean n' Green, but if I erred it was surely in underestimating. I'm not going to give in now.

I am certain in my deicision not to continue with Medifast past the time it takes to work through the pantry shelf FULL of suppliments... and the unopened box. I miraculaously did manage to cancel the shipment on time this month though. I'm not going to be on something so limiting even though I know it works.

The easy way out would be to just go to bed, maybe even take a couple of Tylenol PMs. However, I have work I need to get done- work tonight to prevent me from going to work tomorrow. Not surprisingly, I have not gotten the amount of work done that I had hoped to accomplish over my self-granted 4 -day weekend... but there is one more day... and I have succeeded with my control over food today.

Hiatus?

2008-10-12T17:23:00.000-07:00

I realize it's presumptuous to be able to declare a hiatus from blogging when I have barely done any blogging at all. However, life is just so overwhelming at the moment that climbing into bed with a journal is much more therapeutic than this can be.

I only even post this quasi-announcement into cyber-space because there are still a few blogs that I like to look at on a regular basis and should I leave a comment that links back to this blog, I just want it known that it is with intention that there hasn't been an update in so long... if that makes a difference (?).

I will probably blow the dust off the keyboard in a couple of weeks.

She looks like she's put weight back on...

2008-09-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

I've been imagining lately what people will say. It was just 25 pounds. If only so many hadn't commented about the difference losing that 25 pounds made. That it was evident. I don't feel like I can afford the brain power it would take right now to think about food. I still have a pantry shelf stocked with Medifast. I can't decide to just abandon that program with that unopened food wasting away on my shelves. I have had many days that I make it through the whole school day without "cheating," just to grab fast food or gorge at a restaurant after school. I have had many "last meals". That last "bad" meal you are going to have before you get back "on track".

I feel like I am starting to see the very dim light at the end of the tunnel to the chaos that has shrouded my first few weeks of school. Another teacher perhaps stated it more adequately when she said her nose is just above the water. Today was a real slap of reality. The Newspaper class had their first articles due. Wow... I cannot fathom what delusional world I was living in that allowed me to believe I could assign an article and they would get done, and get done right. A few of them did not even get done. None were actually printable, and many were beyond the point that they could be edited to be printable. Building this curriculum is the quintessence (vocab word this wk) of a "work in progress". Newly noted, I must TEACH kids how to write like journalists before I give them an assignment to do so. Radical concept.

Anything

2008-09-13T21:32:00.000-07:00

Blogging is yet another thing to add to my list of abandoned projects. I will file it right under that generously expensive birthday gift of a fancy Cricut that I was going to use to do amazing scrapbook projects; box yet unopened.

I feel so guilty that I am an English teacher and yet writing is so hard for me. My favorite blogs are those that offer snippets of everyday life. However, my life is just to dang droaning to offer such interesting clips of entertainment.

I miss old fashioned marble composition journal books that I can crawl into bed to journal with. However, I know that I can type a heck of a lot faster than I can write. So, by typing- even though it means having to sit at the computer desk and log onto Blogger- should allow me to type more. Yet, to do *this* I think I have to have something pertinent to say. Even though I have no "audience" and I do not forsee having one and I've even loss the desire to have one (for now at least, that will eventually return I imagine). So, I've thought about giving up the whole blogger thing... yet again. But, I really don't want to. I don't think. I thought about taking a specific direction with it, like weight loss, but I know I am boxing myself in a bad way to do that.

One time when Jason had been out to sea for a while he told me to "stop being such a damn English teacher and write," translation- anything is something.

So, here's anything.

Bunnies & Shoes

2008-08-31T20:28:00.000-07:00

$30 for popcorn, sodas, and one lone lil' box of Goobers= reasons that Medifast is not that expensive.

The boys and I went to IHOP for breakfast this morning. See last Sunday morning for all the reasons that is a bad thing. Not going to tear open those wounds again.

School starts in less than 48 hours. Today we did the ritualistic back-to-school haircuts and school shopping. I took the boys to Great Clips. My experience has usually been good at this one specific location. The results of Cameron's cut will now make me question that. Afterwards, we drove to Norfolk so I could get my $44 haircut. I don't know if there was a miscommunication or not, but my hair is SHORT! I thought it was short the last time it was cut. That was intentional. This time it is without a doubt short, not so intentionally. This may have been what I communicated. I'm not so sure. I said I wanted it completely off my shoulders. It certainly is. I asked her to blow it out straight. Cameron quite accurately told me it looked like a wig. The term "helmet head" also came to mind. I am hoping I can achieve the same funky messy look with it as before. I am definately too self-concious for short, flat hair.

I spent too much money on shoes for Justin today. There is some defunct switch in my head that thinks the right shoes equal popularity, which is of course, the answer to most of life's maladies. Being in the mall and looking at shoes today made me feel my mortality. Knowing how far removed I am from my high school years makes me feel old. This is a feeling that crops up every once in a while. It makes me measure about how many years I think I have left to live. At 36, I try to be generous and assume at least 50. A small part of me feels the fear of dieing during the time these thoughts run through my head. An even smaller part admonishes my self for being so unhealthy and shortening those remaining years.

The boys went to see the new "Star Wars" movie while I went to see "House Bunny." It was what I expected it to be and something I felt like seeing tonight. It gave me that tug to work in the college field. It also tugged at that part of me that is depressed at not having had the "true" college experience. It was really odd to watch a movie with the main character sharing my name. Of course, the premise of character(s) being Playboy Bunnies meant their was a lot of skin showing. I do not bemoan women that flaunt their bodies at all. I am quite sure if I had the waistiline they do I would have my belly-button pierced and clost full of belly shirts. I often wonder what IS the best body I can have. If I did stay committed how much weight COULD I lose? How would my body look? After surgery?

I think I am ready to flip that switch again. I don't think this is another false promise to myself because I didn't really feel that pull before.

Quote from movie- "Kindess is love with work books on."

Perspective

2008-08-24T17:38:00.000-07:00

Justin went to the beach with a friend for the weekend. This morning, Cameron and I went to breakfast together at Fred's. This may earn me a couple of points in the "Good Mommy" column, but it's a simple fact that indicates total failure on three goals I want to be working towards.

1. Obvious by my sugar-cured ham and fried potatoes breakfast (with eggs), I have not restarted my "relationship" with Medi-fast. Medi-fast, in and of itself, is not on the list of goals. However, eating healthier, which would in turn lead to be me feeling better and losing weight, was probably number one on the list. I had forgotten how hard it is to get back on-track once you fell off. Perhaps "forgot" is not an appropriate word; it would be more correct to say I chose to ignore that reality. There have been several morning when I started "right." Sometimes I even made it through lunch time, but then I would willfully toss it all away and decide to try again tomorrow as I called Dominoes. I have had several "last dinners" in the past few weeks.

2. Secondly, I was at Fred's rather than church. I have lost the desire to go to church. My spirit is so weak. My goal over the summer was to renew that faith. As with the dieting, it was a goal that I pursued and then laid aside. I was surprised at how easy it was. I had planned to read a devotional every morning and the Bible every night, but all it really took for me to reconnect with my spiritual side was some inspirational music. Again, here is something necessary to my well-being and obvious in what needs to be done, but just like with eating healthier, I am ignoring the need.

3. Lastly, I spent $15 on going out to breakfast when he could have stayed home and at what was in our fridge and cupboards instead. My goal was to become more financially aware and responsible during this 6 month deployment. During the month that I did Medifast, we did not eat out one single time. Since Jason returned to the ship, I am not sure that I cooked one single time- other than spaghetti tonight. I have my heart set on buying this new house but it feels so intangible to me. I can not change my spending habits now in ways that will make getting this house- or any new house- easier because I don't believe that we can get it, can afford it.

Finances is what's on my mind mostly of these three topics tonight. Throughout the day, I have had a blog written by Heather Ryan in the back of my head. I have been reading her blog for well over 2 years now and it was interesting to see how strangers in the "free world" responded to her plight of living in the financial margins of society. It was interesting to see how those with so little knowledge of her real life, of which I realize I have only been given a glimpse, pick and choose minute details on which to lamb-baste her. It was interesting to consider how often in real life I do the same with people of whom I know little about.

This essay and the responses, which I surfed through on and off over the past few days, were the backdrop of my weekend. Today, it proved to be an appropriate setting to my thoughts. I have been poor. My childhood was poor and I carried that legacy into my 20's. It's only the past 5 years that my life has taken financial root. I am not thankful enough for a husband (a 2nd husband) that encouraged me to get a degree. I am going into my 5th year of teaching. I have had many, many jobs in my life. I have never held one this long. I have matured into knowing that it is not okay to simply quit a job when things get uncomfortable. I have worked through those times for the first time in my life and love my job on most days. Each night, when I think to pray, I sincerely thank God for the many blessings in my life.

I started stacking school supplies on the kitchen table so I could take a photo and blog about by addiction to school supplies. An addiction that I aimlessly fed into again today. As I was walking through Wal-Mart with a cart brimming over with very few items that I actually needed, my attention was drawn to the flat-screen tv's. The huge one was under $1,500. I thought, "we could afford to just go out and buy that one month if we wanted." Life felt comfortable.

Justin came back from the beach tonight. He talked about seeing this friend and that friend this & that person he knew there. He said that he wished we had a place at the beach. It hurt to have to say "We can't afford that." The friend that he went with only has a place there to go because his grandfather bought it a long long time ago. I don't know about the others. Maybe some of them have family with places, maybe the places are theirs. It was such a slap of reality to be thinking just a couple of hours earlier how well off we are and then see yet another way that we don't measure up.

Cameron

2008-08-17T18:29:00.000-07:00

It was just about 12 years and 9 months ago that we moved into a new house. It was a three-bedroom home and we only had one son at the time. So, we thought what better use of a third bedroom than a new baby? The best I can say for this thought process was at least it was a planned pregnancy, even if born of odd reasoning.

For the last two weeks of December 1995, I was so sick that I spent most of my days and nights in bed. My health insurance didn't kick in until January 1st. So, on New Year's Eve, a couple of hours before the clock struck 12, I went to the Emergency Room. The doctors decided that I was suffering an enlarged gall bladder and planned on whisking me into surgery to remove it. It was during the pre-op bloodwork that we discovered I was pregnant, and since the gall bladder wasn't "THAT" enflamed, it was more than likely the pregnancy that was making me sick and than the gall bladder.

During the pregnany I craved Ellio's frozen cheese pizza. It reminded me a lot of school pizza. Your baby room was originally called "The Ugly Room." It was a 60's meld of mustard yellow and olive green. We scraped off the ancient wallpaper and painted the walls white and the trim yellow. Then, I sponge painted a stream of pastel-colored stars across the middle of each wall. Your sonograms never revealed whether you were a boy or girl. So, I wanted a baby room that could be for either.

Close to your Due Date, in the early morning hours, the meconium sac broke. I was at the hopsital before heavy contractions started. A student nurse tried to tell me that I wasn't dilated enough to be in labor, but I knew otherwise. The doctors were concerned about you aspirating (choking) because of the ruptured sack. So, I had to push out your head and then wait while they suctioned you. When you finally emerged to the world, the Respiratory Tech team whisked you away to make sure your lungs were clean and healthy.

The next day we discovered you had 3 holes in your heart- septal valve and mitral valve defects. Thankfully, each had closed naturally by the time you were 6 months old. There were some residual effects. You developed slower than the other children in your early years. You have always been one of the smallest in your class. You did not start to walk until you were almost two years old. We were at Mom-Mom's house one afternoon. You were sitting in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn. Someone knocked on the back door and you just got up and walked into the kitchen as if you had been walking all along, when in fact you had never taken a step alone before. The story is pretty much the same when it comes to reading. One day, you just sat down and read a book to me- Dr. Suess, Fox in Socks- when we didn't even know yet that you could read more than a few words.

You are now officially a pre-teen. This will be your first year in Middle School. You have reached the point in life where decisions are being made that will mold your future. Where did time go? I regret not taking more pictures, not recording more memories. Everyone tells you that these years will fly by too fast and then you discover that's not just a cliche. You are my loving child, always available for a hug or kiss. You have understood the supreme art of sarcasm from a very young age. You are my baby. Happy Birthday.

Saturday Plans Laid to Waste

2008-08-16T19:18:00.000-07:00

Since last week, cleaning the garage was on the agenda for today. This is a cumbersome task that I have to endure each summer because I allow the boys to ransack the garage throughout the year- tearing it apart to find what they desire or putting things back into the garage by just opening the door and tossing them in.

The BEFORE pic...

Of course, the whole point in taking a "Before" pic was to then have an "After" pic of tangible proof of how productive my day was. However, six hours later when I finally gave up on the project, the pic would not have looked much different. Tomorrow is my last day of Summer Vacation. As typical, about this time of the year, I feel like doing absolutely nothing. Thankfully, due to the abbreviated vacation this summer, this phase has only lasted a few days. I talked myself into following through with the project to clean the garage, but it took until noon to actually do so. We pulled everything out and sorted in the yard according to the genre of said junk- tools, camping, fishing, Key Club, potential yard sale, holiday, etc. We did a truckload of trash from the pit to take to the dump (but never made it to the dump). Then, we were interrupted by the bathroom remodeling guy, lots of attitude, and pizza. So, by 6 p.m. I told the boys to put the stuff left on the lawn back into the garage and try to keep it grouped together how we had it separated. I'm afraid to go look at the result.

I felt the need to get out of the house to go do Something. Of course, a Saturday night in Franklin has its limitations. I decided to go and get a pedicure and/or manicure because that would make me feel so much better about myself going back to work (even though I don't wear open-toed shoes in public). The salons were, of course, all closed so I drove by one of the Asian shops and they were closed too. So, I decided to look at clothes instead. The closest thing we have to department stores here are a Cato's and Belk. I have only been to Cato's a handlful of times becuase either I hate all the clothes or I find something I like and it is too overpriced for what it is. Well, tonight neither were the case. I found plenty of things I like; all were priced well, some even on clearance for $8; and, miracle of all miracles, they all fit. We all have different criteria by which we choose our clothes. For a while, price was my number one filter; now, however, I just look for something that fits. Anxiety sets in as I close the Fitting Room door as I prepare for trying on clothes, knowing it is unlikely any of them are going to fit right. Tonight though, every single item fit. Granted, I was trying the largest size in the store, but that has been the case for a long time. Maybe the 20ish pound lost on Medifast minimized a bit of the bulge. It was an endulgent experience to actually be able to choose clothes and not just take what fit. I spent just under $200. I'm not sure, off-hand, what all I got... like 2 skirts and 6 tops, maybe.

Then, I went to Starbucks; actually I went to the Starbuck's kiosk inside Fram Fresh, but as I said, my options are limited. I ordered a Carmel Frappacinni Venti and after I had already paid, they discovered they had no venti cups and gave me to talle cups instead and a coupon for a free drink next time for the "inconvenience". They have a nice suede couch in the area next to Starbucks where all the books and magazines are. So, I grabbed a few magazines and flipped through them as I drank. I'm saving the other drink for on the way to church tomorrow.

(Oh, and when I called to complain that the pizza delivery guy forgot the drink, they said I would receive a gift certificate in the mail for the inconvenience.)

Alas, no night on the town in Franklin can end without a stop to Wal-Mart or at least perusing the parking lot to see who is hanging out there (seriously, Wal-Mart parking lot is THE social hot spot). It is without jest that I say how soothing it was to wander the aisles and buy school supplies. (My School Supply addiction will be the subject of an upcoming post once I can unroot all that I have bought over the past couple of months.) I bought a couple of things on the Middle School shopping list, but mostly I bought coordinated notebooks and folders and dividers and tablets for me... because they were pretty.

Then, I headed home. Strangely, it was a relaxing evening. I only wish it had not involved spending such mula since I am supposed to be completely focused on buying a new house right now. (But, the free pizza and Starbuck's saves money, right?)

Social Life in a Small Town

2008-08-13T19:54:00.000-07:00

Tonight the boys and I went to the county fair. It lasts for a week, but at $6 a head for admission fee, I typically pick just one night to attend. As tonight, I most often choose the night of the Queen's pageant. It's not a very big fair. There is prize-winning produce and baby rabbits to examine as well as a scarecrow contest and various other exhibits to peruse. Mostly though, it is one of those occasions that is the pinnacle to defining my life in Southampton County.

It's high school lunch room psychology magnified to an adult scale. I was not dressed for the occasion. One might ask what dress is required for such an occasion- overalls and mud-slinging boots? No, the women of Southampton County are a sophisticated sort. On a typical day, the clothes they wear are quite average: jeans or khakis and a basic-colored plain shirt. It's the whole picture that comes together nicely: the jewelry, the professional pedicure peeking from their cute flops, the perfected make-up, and of course, the hair. The perfect hair. Some combination of gel and mousse and Crazy Glue to make each layer stand on it's own, separated from its companions. It's like a perfect meld of an updated late 80's big-hair-shag without quite hitting Dolly Parton standards.

Overall, they look "pulled together". That very "pulled together" has always been what has eluded me. I always feel inferior to these women. Even on days that I like what I am wearing and I feel like I am having a good hair day, I will find myself in the presence of these women and feel like I am a lesser being.

Most of these women have grown up in this little county and can sketch out the family tree that connects them all by heart. I, on the other hand, have only lived here 6 years, and spent the first 2 years commuting two hours daily to finish my English degree. Although I think most people "know" me, I don't really feel like I belong, and I don't think I ever will. I never learned the art of making friends. I have gone through most of my life with one good friend. That friend has usually been someone at school or at work (often a fellow outcast), and then I graduated or changed jobs and lost contact. I wish I had a larger social network, but I really don't know how to go about getting it. One of the toughest parts of Jason's deployments have been the solitude. There have been occasions when I just wanted to call someone to talk, but had no one. This problem is still the case, when Jason is here, but it seems so much more desperate with him gone. Living over an hour from base has always separated me from getting to know other Navy wives, which has rarely proven to be a bad thing.

This post was supposed to be a summary of the fair... how, although the Queen's pageant seemed to have quite an eclectic bunch of entries this year, but it was obvious who the winner was going to be from the first introductions... given how the stereotype has never failed, nor did so this year. Instead, I guess it stirred some of my recessed feelings of living in a small town, not that it would necessarily be different elsewhere, not that it ever has been.

Ugh, surprisingly depressing post...

Medifast

2008-08-11T19:07:00.000-07:00

The day before Summer School began, June 13th, I began Medifast. I had decided to go on this program over the summer before Jason left on deployment. However, I kept it a secret from him because I did not want any input on the decision, and if I decided to quit it, he never had to know the difference. During the first three days I was so tired. I came straight home from Summer School and fell asleep on the couch, awaking long enough only to crawl to the bedroom and retire for the night. I did good for the first month. Five Medifast meals and a "Lean & Green" for dinner. I cooked every night! Or at least, I prepared some type of meal, even if occasionally is was a salad with precooked meat. Nevertheless, I fixed more meals in that month than I had in the past year... no lie. The biggest criticisms I can give myself is not getting in enough water or missing one of the Medifast meals for the day.

Well, when I went home for the family death, I packed all my Medifast materials with me. I was determined to do what it took to stay on program however long it was to be that I would be out of town. Immediately upon arriving at my Mother's, I saw how hard that task was going to be. She had no wire whisk or measuring cups and her best cooking pan left black flecks on meat cooked in it. So then, I decided that I would do my 5 Medifast meals as planned, but I would go out to dinner each night for my "Lean & Green". This had the added benefit of getting me out of the house! Then, Jason unexpectedly came home from his deployment for two weeks to help with the funeral and related factors. Each day I slowly wavered off program. I grew more and more liberal in my dinner choices. The last couple of days we were in Maryland, I decided to take "a break" and get back on track when we got home.

It's been over two weeks now and I haven't gotten "back on track". I am finding one excuse after another to postpone doing so. I have had "just one last meal" many times- from Domino's to Chinese Buffet, to the box of Whitman's tonight (yes, for dinner). It clicked so easily before and I just DID it. Why can't I DO it now? Many days I wake up saying, "OK, back on track today". I rarely make it to my second meal before I give up and grab whatever else there is to eat. I could almost excuse myself if there was even an ounce of pleasure in any of the meals I have diverted to- even that FIRST bite of a good meal. However, that has not been the case at all since we've been home. Now, while back in Maryland, we had some good meals! But, back here, I've regretted the food I found myself shoveling in after the first few bites... yet, I still ate until I felt that sickingly comfortable feeling of being stuffed.

I use to think that I had no "true" food issues. I use to think that convenience was the main reason for my nutritional downfalls. I just wanted whatever was the quickest meal to grab and eat, which most often was fast food or eating out. I am coming to see that I do indeed have food demons to deal with. I experience a masochistic pleasure from stuffing myself. I eat to spite Jason. In the week before he left, I found myself hiding in the kitchen and eating potato chips with this feeling that was similar to "I'll show him". I don't really understand these food issues or don't know what all there are. I'm going to have to spend time figuring these things out and dealing with them.

I need to find the motivation to stat eating right again. I know Medifast is a quick fix, but it's an easy one too. I don't have the time, energy, or desire to figure out what and how to eat now. Medifast gives me the luxury of time to figure those things out while I follow a systematic program that doesn't require to me to think. It's what I need right now. I just need to switch the lever on my desire to get back on program. The excuse I am giving myself now is that I will wait until next week when school starts back and my schedule is more normal. I'm hoping now that maybe if I blog it, I will do it... like, "build it and they will come". Maybe I can derive a sense of accountability from talking about it here that will make me want to do good so I can report back later about good progress.

Getting Muddy!

2008-08-09T18:20:00.000-07:00

Today was the 8th Annual Healthnet Mud Run. It is a 5 mile obstacle course that is used in the training of Navy Seals. Mostly, it involves running through sand, but there are also hills to climb, water to cross, and mud pits to crawl. Today, Justin competed for the first time.

His Finish Time was 49:31. He came in 14 of his bracket, 19 & under males. He came in 112th overall of 1,737 runners.

I'm really proud of him. My goal for him was simply to cross the finish line still running. He did that and much more. This photo is 100 meters from the finish line. Notice that he is smiling?

There was also a MiniMud Run for children 12 and under. Cameron competed against the 9 - 12 year olds. He came in 17th overall, within the first quarter of runners. It was a one-mile run through sand with a couple of obstacles. He went into it with an awesome attitude. He asked me, "What if I don't know which way to turn?" I replied, "Follow the others". He said, "But, what if I am in first?" and I replied, "Then lead the way."

He started out strong. He was in first place after the first obstacle of crawling under mesh netting. However, running through the sand eventually kicked his butt . I could tell he was disappointed with himself. Near the finish line, as he was passing me, he walked a few steps, and then ran through the finish. He wants to be as awesome as his big brother is at running. He doesn't take into consideration any difference in age, size or experience between the two of them. I wanted to be encouraging to him when he finished, but he had such a negative attitude because he thought he did badly, that I avoided saying all the things that I know I should have. I will have to try to amend that tomorrow as I give him copies of the pics to show his friends at church.

News Flash: Obama is Black!

2008-08-06T20:08:00.000-07:00

Our local newspaper... lacks content. It comes out three times a week, I think. We have a subscription. However, the delivery is so unreliable that I can only guess how often we should be getting a paper. When we first moved to this small town, we bought a newspaper every day for three days, but were too busy to sit down and look at them. When we finally did so, we saw that we had bought three copies of the same paper. The cover story, with a big picture and story continuing on the second page, was about the stray dog that hangs out at the Winn-Dixie. This was even before the movie! We are so ahead of the times like that! (not) The Winn-Dixie has since closed down. I don't know what happened to the dog.

In today's paper, there's an opinion poll on the bottom of the page, offering 6 photos accompanying the replies to the following question: "What, if anything, has you excited about the presidential campaign?"

Here are the replies:

1. "If Obama wins he will be the first black president."

2. "That Obama is there."

3. "I am most excited about the diversity of the candidates. I am not sure if America is ready for a president of a different ethnic background, but the fact that we can chose is very exciting".

4. "There is nothing exciting about the election."

5. "There is controversy. That is getting a big turnout, eventually benefiting the African-Americans."

6. "Obama is black."

My reply- "I am anything but excited about this election. I find it troubling that it appears that voters will go to the poles to cast their votes for or against a man based solely on his race."

Early in the campaigning, I spent great hours comparing my stances on issues with those of the candidates using these intricate grid patterns. Any candidate that I was close to being aligned with is now out of the running. I hate when people laud your RIGHT to vote. Voting is a responsibility. If you are going to show up to the polls and cast a ballot based on an ignorance of the candidate's issues, then I just rather you stay home. If you are educated about the candidates and their stances on the issues that matter the most to you, then I think you should vote however you wish. I don't care who you vote for. I don't care what your stances on the issues are. I only care that you know WHO and WHAT you are voting for, beyond a candidate's physical characteristics- gender, race, age.

Counting Down Summer

2008-08-05T19:58:00.000-07:00

My most dreaded time of the week is Sunday night. On Sunday nights, I lament all the tasks that did not get checked off my "To Do List" for the weekend and I stress about all that the upcoming week beholds. There are less than two weeks left before I return to school. I have a feeling that next week is going to be like one long Sunday night. I feel as if I have had no Summer Vacation at all. The first three weeks post-school year were spent teaching Summer School. Then, there was only a three week window until I had to drive Justin up to the high school every day for Cross Country practice. Midway into the first week, we had the death and I had to go back home for a week. Then, through the next week, Jason was home for the unexpected leave.

I'm not trying to say that it is no vacation with Jason here. It's just that Jason's catch phrase is "What's the plan?" I very well may have that engraved on his tombstone one day. Every day after school, when I call him or he calls me, that's what he asks- a question that's supposed to encompass what's for dinner, what do the boys have to do that night, what do I have to do, what comes on television even. When he asks me said question, even though I have come to perfectly expect it, I rarely have an answer. I cannot even think about the upcoming evening until I am in my car leaving the school grounds. During this past week he was home that was a daily, and more often more than daily question. Again, I rarely had answer. Like a hippie, I just wanted to "be, man, like, chill dude"... ok, a Surfer Hippie. On one of the first days were were back from Maryland, he laid down on the bed with a clipboard and mapped out the week with all that we needed and wanted to do. Ok, ok, twist my arm and I will admit this make perfectly logical sense. However, my insensible erratic mind wanted nothing to do with it. This is vacation. I don't want schedules. I want... whatever. I don't want to plan to do something and then be committed to doing it when I wake up and have changed my mind for the day. Now, Jason is gone and Cross Country practice has started. Practice only lasts about an hour, but it limits what we can do out of town... and, EVERYTHING to do is "out of town".

Today the boys and I went to Water Country. I think I went to my first water park (this one, the only one I have been to) about three years ago. I was scared of water rides. I went on a few with the "fam" that day and realized "fear" wasn't really what I was going to need to be worried about because SIZE was going to be a much bigger issue (no pun intended). It was exhausting to walk up those long flights of stairs to reach the starting point of a water slide. I was winded. My legs and feet hurt, probably back too, but I don't remember. Then there was the fact that I weighed too much to make the tubes float as there were supposed to. I'm pretty sure a low water supply was of equal culprit on the slide that struggled to churn and spit us out. However, after that I was paranoid about how I looked getting into the tubes and if the tubes would go down the chute once I was in them. I haven't been on a water ride since that first day. Thankfully, there are other attractions at the water park that I find entertaining, so it is not a total act of martyrdom to take the boys there.

I wasn't in the mood for those attractions today. I mostly lounged and engaged in other activities. First, there's my favorite water park game- "Is she bigger than me?" Thankfully, a few targets passed the test, not many. That environment makes me simultaneously feel okay and feel mortified by my body in alternating moments. I look at others and ponder if ill-fitting or poorly chosen bathing suits are a sign of a good self-image or a bad one. Such places also make me mourn the loss modesty of teenage girls and question what could some people possibly have been thinking when they got their tattoo. I did try to be semi-productive during my poolside lounging. I took a notebook and pens with me. (What, "normal" people don't carry school supplies to water parks?) I tried to make an overall To-Do List for the next two weeks, but that grew LONG and stressful. So, I decided to minimize the task and concentrate just on what needs to be done to the hall bathroom- from cleaning, to reorganizing, redecorating, and repairs. Five or six crumpled sheets of paper later I finally had an acceptable list. I can be OCD about list-making... just a bit.

To get to Williamsburg, where Busch Gardens and the water park are located, we can go highway or we can go backroads and across the ferry. Usually, we go backroads. The highway route is confusing and easily messed up when backrouting to come home, although I am convinced it still saves time. Tonight we pulled up to the ferry just as they lifted the ramp. I was PEEVED! They surely saw two cars coming down the path! "Dukes of Hazzard" scenes of jumping the ramp flashed through the recesses of my mind. The ferry is on a schedule on weeknights where it waits on each side of the ferry 30 minutes while it waits for passengers. So, we had to wait the full 30 minutes as it parked on the other side of the James River and then we had to wait on the ferry the full 30 minutes while it waited on our side. So, it took a full hour to take a less than 10-minute ferry ride. Between that and the steering-wheel-clenched-lookout for deer on the backroad, I think I am going to start figuring out the highway route, where however long it may be, at least it's a definite (as definite as such things can be, a least).

Goodbyes

2008-08-03T18:39:00.000-07:00

On Friday, July 11th, Summer School ended. On Wednesday, July 13th, mid-first-week-of-summer-vacation, I was in the car with the boys. We had just left the post office from mailing the Sailor a care package and were on the way to a friend's house so I could help her with a research paper for the summer college class she was taking. The boys were in their swimming trunks because they were going to play in the pool as I tried to parlay the intricacies of MLA format documentation. My cell rang, and pretty sure it was the friend's house we were heading to, I had the Justin dig it out of my purse. The caller ID said "Maryland," which met that it was my mother. I have a hard time attributing the loving title of "Mother" to her, so defining her by location rather than relation was an easier way to deal with the incoming calls. We played the usual game of making the boys answer the phone and then refusing to take the phone when Justin said she wanted to talk to me... still reluctant to give in when Justin said she was crying and something was wrong.

Richard, the man with whom she had lived for 18 years, died that morning while mowing the lawn. He was in his early 50's and had a slew of medical problems for which he did not have the health insurance to address. So, while it obviously wasn't expected, in retrospect, I can't exactly say it was a surprise. He moved into my mother's house after I moved out, so I had no real relationship with the man. However, my boys loved him and saw him as a grandfather figure, which in our nonexistent extended family structure is a pretty big deal.

We came home and loaded up the car with clothes and the dog and headed to Maryland, about a 3 hour drive. Richard had a living brother and sister, however, my mother was the beneficiary of his barely enough (but thankfully existent) life insurance policies, so the details for handling the funeral and burial were left to her... which is to say they were left to me. My mother is for the most part deaf. Without her hearing aid she can hear nothing, with it she can hear better, but not well, I think. She has a 6th grade education, and I think school was a struggle for her even up to that point. At 56, she has been on disability for almost 20 years for being so overweight that her spine cannot support the mass. For these reasons, many people pity my mother. I, however, know that in addition to these traits and issues and much more prominent, is the fact that she is simply MEAN. Seriously... mean. She thrives on the pain, downfalls, and embarrassment of others. Therefore, from the onset I correctly surmised that a small part of her would revel in the attention she received from Richard's death. For all intents and purposes, she was the mourning widow. I was only wrong in assuming too small of a degree to which she would enjoy the attention.

It took death for me to appreciate the man Richard was. That is so cliche, I know, and I hate that I fell into that role. Richard could not hold a job. I cannot begin to estimate the number of jobs that he had in the 18 years I knew him. It is without doubt that I guess the number of jobs he held outnumbered the years I knew him. Every time I talked to him, a new job was the topic. There were actually a couple of companies that would he would quit and get rehired by a few times, which always seemed strange to me. He was always looking for a handout. He owed everyone money- family, friend, neighbor, and more. On more than one occasion I avoided visiting them because it would cost me. The boys liked going there for a week or two in the summer, which was also a good break for me. I would send them with $100 to help pay for food while they were there, and then get a call at the end of the week that it wasn't enough, and he needed $50 more. So, these were the basis of my opinions of Richard over the past 18 years. He was a freeloader that couldn't keep a job and always had his hand out.

At the funeral, thanks to the speeches of the minister and a family friend, I was able to inherit a different legacy by which to remember Richard. For that I am thankful. Some of the things I knew and overlooked, others I learned for the first time. Even in their mid-50's, he and my mother were the "young couple" in the neighborhood that is still inhabited mostly by the first-time home owners. So a lot of old ladies needed a lot of favors. Richard was there to cut their grass or run their errands. Yes, perhaps he did this for a price, perhaps not in some cases, but they still seemed grateful. I also learned that on many occassions, he simply visited them to talk and drink coffee. Eerily, several of them said he talked in the days preceeding his death about knowing that "his time was coming soon" and he was worried about how my mother would fare without him. Also, I have had the freedom during the entire 18 years of my adult life to pick and choose when I dealt with my mother. Richard was there to care for her when she was bedridden following back surgery and, unfortunately take the brunt of her cruelty. She called his jobs to check up on him, yelled at him in private and public, and tried to better herself by embarrassing him before other people. He filled the void of victim left in her life when I moved out. I had not considered these things before. I did not recognize how much his mere presence from afar made my life easier for nearly two decades. He also loved my boys. When Mother cleaned out his wallet, there were several pictures of my boys in there, but not even his own kids (which he didn't have a relationship with). Most people we spoke with and even the speakers at the funeral talked about how important the boys were to him. I am an only child. My mother's neverending tendency to only regard people as a source of favors and pity has led to her family estranging her, and thus, me. So, I have no family outside of my home and weak relationships with in-laws. Richard was a strong member of our family even though I was never willing to acknowledge him in this role. I hope I am being hard on myself. I hope there was at least a token of appreciation for him within me while he still lived that I am finding hard to remember now.

The Navy sent Jason home for two weeks to help with affairs. I am glad he was with me for the week I was in Maryland. He created a buffer between my mother and I that allowed me to act civil towards her, for the most part. He also helped me to think through the financial situation she has put herself in and stopped me from making some guilty open-purse decisions that would have proved disastrous for us in the end. I am glad he was there for the boys, who didn't really get smacked with the reality of the situation until the coffin was before them. I'm glad he was there to help with funeral arrangements so I couldn't later be blamed for making the only decisions possible (such as closed casket) with the amount of life insurance left. I am glad he stepped in to talk to the relatives that wanted to tell me Richard owed them money and make suggestions about my mother's financial situation. And too, I am glad he was there to see my Mother as she "really" is and never believed, by me, to be. In light of the reason he was stateside, we had a good time while more or less "vacationing" in my hometown. We connected in a way that we had not in a long time. The following week, back home and back to reality though, things fell into their old routine. I felt robbed. I wanted the spark we had while staying out of town in a hotel for a week. He said it was unfair to compare the two. But, I think there has to be a compromise. I dropped him off at the airport today and he should be in a plane somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean as I type this, heading back to his ship for four more months. In that time, I need to figure out some ways to keep that "spark" in our everyday lives.