So...I got a little heavy on you guys in my last post, but I really appreciate all of the kind words that you left in response. Thank you.
Anyway, back to usual ranting that you've learned to tolerate from me...
This first week of school has been a bit crazy, but we got through it. My son started first grade, and his teacher is incredibly nice. However, he has a VERY serious problem with this little, teeny, tiny thing. I think the clinical term is: "Talking during class and distracting everyone around him." Yeah, we're all crossing our fingers that he'll get out of this bad habit and be a model student by the end of the month.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I couldn't even finish typing that sentence without laughing!
Okay, moving on...
Fall Semester is shaping up pretty nicely for me. I think I'm going to like most of my classes, and it also looks as though I just might not HATE my Statistics class. It's a freaking miracle! It also helps that my Statistics teacher understands how intimidating the subject can be, and has made it his mission in life to help students learn the subject as painlessly as possible.
What is my line-up of classes, you wonder? Well...
I'm taking: Psychology of Adolescence, Psychology of Women and Gender, Statistics of Psychology, and Communication Theory. They're shaping up to be good classes so far. Wish me luck!
My family is scheduled to get pictures done tomorrow morning. Yes, that's right, my WHOLE family. My parents, siblings, in-laws (including my younger sister's fiancé), AND the grandkids (my two kids, and my big sister's two kids). It's going to be crazy, but it's time to get it done. We haven't done a big family portrait since long before the first grandchild, (CT) was born. It's been a while, and my mom wants to get new pictures done before my younger brother leaves for a two-year mission to New Zealand next month.
Anyway, we got everyone on board several weeks ago, scheduling for Leesh to take the pictures for us, (She's a fantastic photographer). We coordinated which colors everyone would wear, and everything was ready to go. Then...
Today, as my daughter was taking her afternoon nap, and CT was outside playing with friends, I was doing my Statistics homework. All of the sudden I heard CT's sobbing coming closer and closer and then he pushed through the garage door. He was crying, and holding a paper towel against his bleeding nose.
He's gotten nosebleeds before, so I didn't think much of it at first. And then, right as I was asking him what had happened, I saw it. A huge, red, painful-looking goose-egg protruding from his forehead just above his right eyebrow.
Apparently, he fell off of his bike as he was riding it around a corner. It started wobbling and he lost balance and fell face-first onto the sidewalk. His exact description of the way he landed was: "I went: 'Dah, dah, dah.'" [He said this as he bobbed his hand up and down, drawing a very clear picture of what had happened.]
Yeah, basically he was bouncing along the sidewalk on his face. Poor kid. The right side of his nose showed some bruising as well, which explained the bloody nose.
I took him up to the bathroom and surveyed the extent of the damage. Aside from a small scrape by his elbow and a skinned, bloody knee, the massive bump on his forehead was the worst of his injuries. I made sure he was okay, and then sent him to take a shower and wash off all the blood. (It was all over his face, arms, and clothes.) Nothing to rush to the doctor about, but I still made him stay inside for the rest of the day. He's going to be just fine, just a bit bruised for a few days, (or weeks...)
My question is this: Why did my son have to fall off his bike and visibly maim his face the day before we were supposed to get family pictures taken? My brother leaves in a matter of weeks, and it's VERY hard to get everyone together in once place at one time. We can't postpone this.
I'm going to call this further proof that God has a sense of humor. He really, really does.
Sigh...oh well. At least it wasn't any worse, and he's going to be okay. Plus, Ty and I just figure that the massive goose-egg on CT's face will be excellent proof that he's a perfectly normal, active six-year-old boy. And it will make for a great story later in life, right?
RIGHT?!?!?
Friday, August 26, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
I Just Felt the Need to Share This...
Of course, I'd heard it before. I mean, just about everyone has seen the movie, right?
However, last night was the first time I'd ever read it myself. As I've said before, I'm a visual communicator, so for me reading something will always carry far more impact than simply hearing it.
As I read the brief, profound words, I was surprised by the tears that so suddenly flowed from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I was touched to my very core. Every word was singing to me, through my very veins, as though my heart was beating out the rhythm:
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
--William Ernest Henley
This poem speaks to me, and it brought back some emotions that are still a little raw.
Most of you know that I have two beautiful kids, who I love with all my soul. What you may not know is that I have been pregnant 3 times. I hope you will all bear with me while I share the story with you.
From the first moment I saw that little pink plus sign on the pregnancy test, I felt that something wasn't quite right. I tried to feel happy and excited about it, but I just couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that there was a serious problem.
I had spotty bleeding for weeks, and every time I brought it up to the doctor, I was always assured that it was perfectly normal for the first few weeks of a pregnancy. Then I went in for the first ultrasound. There was the baby, tiny and already growing arms and legs and miniscule little fingers. And there, in plain sight, was the baby's heartbeat--steady and strong.
The doctor calculated that I was about 8 weeks along, and set my due date for the middle of the next June. She also assured me that once a heartbeat was found in a fetus, my chances of miscarriage dropped dramatically. Things looked pretty good, and I tried to ease my mind.
A few days after the ultrasound was Halloween. Ty and I decided to announce the news to our parents. Everyone was so happy and excited, but I just felt sick.
We told our son the news before anyone else, and he was thrilled to be getting a new baby sibling. He was about 3 1/2 years old at the time. We took him to the appointments, and he heard the baby's heartbeat. He loved it.
Then, a mere week after that reassuring ultrasound, Ty, CT and I went out to dinner with my friend, Leesh. While at the restaurant, after showing Leesh the ultrasound pictures, we were just sitting there talking when I felt a sudden, small gush of fluid. I rushed to the bathroom, and was terrified to find that I was bleeding. That is one sight that will send just about any expecting mother into near hysterics. I could only feel cold. It was as though my blood had frozen in my veins.
I called the doctor, who told me to take it easy for a day or so and monitor the bleeding. If it got worse, I was to go to the emergency room. To my relief, the bleeding went away after the first 48 hours, and I went in to the doctor's office about 2 days later. She took another ultrasound, and the news was very comforting.
The baby still looked good, and its heartbeat was still strong.
About 4 days after that, however, we were at home, watching TV on the couch when I felt another small gush of fluid. Terror-stricken, I ran to the bathroom and saw that I was, again, bleeding. Then, as I sat on the toilet, there was an even larger gush of blood, and I immediately burst into tears of horror. I screamed for Ty, and he ran to me. I told him what had happened, and he called the doctor's office again. They told me to go to the emergency room.
We had to take CT with us, and he was amazingly brave. He sat quietly in a chair while the doctors and nurses at the hospital worked with me. He was scared, I could tell, but he didn't cry or panic. He was just very quiet.
Another ultrasound, a very in-depth ultrasound, was performed. The baby's heartbeat was still there, still looking good. However, after looking carefully at the images, the radiologist determined that the placenta had torn away from the uterine wall, very slightly. Otherwise, things looked relatively stable. I was told to rest until my regular doctor called me.
When I did hear from my doctor, she told me that there wasn't really anything that could be done. In the first trimester, if I was going to miscarry, it was going to happen, no matter what. She did, however, offer to give me weekly ultrasounds until we felt like things were okay.
For the next 3 weeks, the regular ultrasounds were very comforting. The baby looked great, the bleeding around the placenta had gone away, and the doctor said she felt like we could go back to regular 3 week intervals between visits.
Three weeks later, I went to my first normal visit. CT and Ty were both with me. The doctor measured me, and felt around, making sure everything was okay. Then she pulled out the little machine that detects the baby's heartbeat, allowing you to listen to it. She couldn't find a heartbeat. She checked in many different locations, but no heartbeat. She reassured us, "The baby could just be moving around too much to get a reading. Let's take an ultrasound."
We went back to the ultrasound room, and the doctor searched carefully. She found the baby, but something was very wrong. Where once there had been constant movement, all was now perfectly still. Where there had been a fluttering heartbeat, there was emptiness. I felt my own heart shatter when my doctor whispered hoarsely, "There's no heartbeat. I'm so sorry."
As my eyes overflowed with tears, Ty's low, quiet voice could be heard from the corner: "Is there a way you can find out when the baby's heart stopped?" The doctor nodded, measured the baby, and determined that the baby had died at around 12 weeks. Within a week of my last ultrasound.
I went in the very next evening for a D and C--which is where they dialate you and clean out the uterus, so the mother doesn't have to go through the cramping and bleeding when the body finally expels the fetus.
It was just supposed to be a 30 minute, outpatient procedure. Unfortunately, something was once again very wrong.
I remember waking up from the anesthesia with a pounding headache. I heard the nurse, sitting next to my bed, talking to someone on the phone about how I would have to stay in the hospital overnight because something had gone wrong during the surgery. It was later that I found out the whole story.
During the D and C, I had started bleeding. Bleeding is normal of course, but the normal amount of blood lost during this procedure is around 300 mL. I bled out approximately 1300-1500 mL. It was all they could do to get my blood pressure high enough to keep me alive.
Poor Ty. Two and a half hours after I'd been wheeled away from him and into surgery, the doctor came to him in the waiting room and pulled him into a smaller, private room. She was hesitant to begin, but she finally said: "Well, it's touch and go right now, but we think she's going to make it." She then told him what had happened, adding: "It's just a good thing that she chose the D & C, because if she'd chosen to expel the baby herself, she never would have survived the ambulance ride to the hospital."
After I'd woken up, they wheeled me into my room for the night. There was Ty, sitting against the far wall, his face as white as a sheet. I've never seen him so afraid before, or since. He walked up to me, carefully, and kissed me. He was being very quiet, very distant. I think he was still in shock. Ty said he needed to get home to CT and put him to bed.
It was the first night I'd ever spent away from my son, and I missed him terribly. Ty called me before putting CT to bed, and let me talk to him. I told him I loved him and that I'd see him the next day, doing everything in my power to keep him from hearing the tears in my voice. During my overnight stay in the hospital, I had to have 2 blood transfusions. Then I had to take regular doses of iron for several weeks afterward.
The next morning I took a shower, and as I was brushing my hair in the mirror, my doctor came in. She looked very surprised that I was up and about already, but she was happy to see that I was doing well. She filled me in on the rest of the surgery, and told me I could check out that day.
Ty brought CT with him when he came to pick me up. CT promptly climbed into the bed with me, and my entire body filled with warmth at the sight of him. I smiled as I held my beautiful son in my arms. Between him and Ty over the next few weeks, I found a way through those darkest days.
As painful as this was for our little family, it was also the catalyst behind a very important decision. It was because of this loss that Ty and I finally decided to take an enormous leap of faith and go back to college. If we hadn't lost that baby, we would never have taken such a bold and frightening step.
After such an experience, we both knew that it was now or never.
Of course, life has an amazing way of bringing joy out of pain. Within 5 months of the miscarriage, I was pregnant again with our angel daughter. Life moves onward.
But now you see why "Invictus" speaks to me so powerfully. Pain and sorrow are a part of life. It's what we choose to do with it that makes us who we truly are.
However, last night was the first time I'd ever read it myself. As I've said before, I'm a visual communicator, so for me reading something will always carry far more impact than simply hearing it.
As I read the brief, profound words, I was surprised by the tears that so suddenly flowed from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I was touched to my very core. Every word was singing to me, through my very veins, as though my heart was beating out the rhythm:
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
--William Ernest Henley
This poem speaks to me, and it brought back some emotions that are still a little raw.
Most of you know that I have two beautiful kids, who I love with all my soul. What you may not know is that I have been pregnant 3 times. I hope you will all bear with me while I share the story with you.
From the first moment I saw that little pink plus sign on the pregnancy test, I felt that something wasn't quite right. I tried to feel happy and excited about it, but I just couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that there was a serious problem.
I had spotty bleeding for weeks, and every time I brought it up to the doctor, I was always assured that it was perfectly normal for the first few weeks of a pregnancy. Then I went in for the first ultrasound. There was the baby, tiny and already growing arms and legs and miniscule little fingers. And there, in plain sight, was the baby's heartbeat--steady and strong.
The doctor calculated that I was about 8 weeks along, and set my due date for the middle of the next June. She also assured me that once a heartbeat was found in a fetus, my chances of miscarriage dropped dramatically. Things looked pretty good, and I tried to ease my mind.
A few days after the ultrasound was Halloween. Ty and I decided to announce the news to our parents. Everyone was so happy and excited, but I just felt sick.
We told our son the news before anyone else, and he was thrilled to be getting a new baby sibling. He was about 3 1/2 years old at the time. We took him to the appointments, and he heard the baby's heartbeat. He loved it.
Then, a mere week after that reassuring ultrasound, Ty, CT and I went out to dinner with my friend, Leesh. While at the restaurant, after showing Leesh the ultrasound pictures, we were just sitting there talking when I felt a sudden, small gush of fluid. I rushed to the bathroom, and was terrified to find that I was bleeding. That is one sight that will send just about any expecting mother into near hysterics. I could only feel cold. It was as though my blood had frozen in my veins.
I called the doctor, who told me to take it easy for a day or so and monitor the bleeding. If it got worse, I was to go to the emergency room. To my relief, the bleeding went away after the first 48 hours, and I went in to the doctor's office about 2 days later. She took another ultrasound, and the news was very comforting.
The baby still looked good, and its heartbeat was still strong.
About 4 days after that, however, we were at home, watching TV on the couch when I felt another small gush of fluid. Terror-stricken, I ran to the bathroom and saw that I was, again, bleeding. Then, as I sat on the toilet, there was an even larger gush of blood, and I immediately burst into tears of horror. I screamed for Ty, and he ran to me. I told him what had happened, and he called the doctor's office again. They told me to go to the emergency room.
We had to take CT with us, and he was amazingly brave. He sat quietly in a chair while the doctors and nurses at the hospital worked with me. He was scared, I could tell, but he didn't cry or panic. He was just very quiet.
Another ultrasound, a very in-depth ultrasound, was performed. The baby's heartbeat was still there, still looking good. However, after looking carefully at the images, the radiologist determined that the placenta had torn away from the uterine wall, very slightly. Otherwise, things looked relatively stable. I was told to rest until my regular doctor called me.
When I did hear from my doctor, she told me that there wasn't really anything that could be done. In the first trimester, if I was going to miscarry, it was going to happen, no matter what. She did, however, offer to give me weekly ultrasounds until we felt like things were okay.
For the next 3 weeks, the regular ultrasounds were very comforting. The baby looked great, the bleeding around the placenta had gone away, and the doctor said she felt like we could go back to regular 3 week intervals between visits.
Three weeks later, I went to my first normal visit. CT and Ty were both with me. The doctor measured me, and felt around, making sure everything was okay. Then she pulled out the little machine that detects the baby's heartbeat, allowing you to listen to it. She couldn't find a heartbeat. She checked in many different locations, but no heartbeat. She reassured us, "The baby could just be moving around too much to get a reading. Let's take an ultrasound."
We went back to the ultrasound room, and the doctor searched carefully. She found the baby, but something was very wrong. Where once there had been constant movement, all was now perfectly still. Where there had been a fluttering heartbeat, there was emptiness. I felt my own heart shatter when my doctor whispered hoarsely, "There's no heartbeat. I'm so sorry."
As my eyes overflowed with tears, Ty's low, quiet voice could be heard from the corner: "Is there a way you can find out when the baby's heart stopped?" The doctor nodded, measured the baby, and determined that the baby had died at around 12 weeks. Within a week of my last ultrasound.
I went in the very next evening for a D and C--which is where they dialate you and clean out the uterus, so the mother doesn't have to go through the cramping and bleeding when the body finally expels the fetus.
It was just supposed to be a 30 minute, outpatient procedure. Unfortunately, something was once again very wrong.
I remember waking up from the anesthesia with a pounding headache. I heard the nurse, sitting next to my bed, talking to someone on the phone about how I would have to stay in the hospital overnight because something had gone wrong during the surgery. It was later that I found out the whole story.
During the D and C, I had started bleeding. Bleeding is normal of course, but the normal amount of blood lost during this procedure is around 300 mL. I bled out approximately 1300-1500 mL. It was all they could do to get my blood pressure high enough to keep me alive.
Poor Ty. Two and a half hours after I'd been wheeled away from him and into surgery, the doctor came to him in the waiting room and pulled him into a smaller, private room. She was hesitant to begin, but she finally said: "Well, it's touch and go right now, but we think she's going to make it." She then told him what had happened, adding: "It's just a good thing that she chose the D & C, because if she'd chosen to expel the baby herself, she never would have survived the ambulance ride to the hospital."
After I'd woken up, they wheeled me into my room for the night. There was Ty, sitting against the far wall, his face as white as a sheet. I've never seen him so afraid before, or since. He walked up to me, carefully, and kissed me. He was being very quiet, very distant. I think he was still in shock. Ty said he needed to get home to CT and put him to bed.
It was the first night I'd ever spent away from my son, and I missed him terribly. Ty called me before putting CT to bed, and let me talk to him. I told him I loved him and that I'd see him the next day, doing everything in my power to keep him from hearing the tears in my voice. During my overnight stay in the hospital, I had to have 2 blood transfusions. Then I had to take regular doses of iron for several weeks afterward.
The next morning I took a shower, and as I was brushing my hair in the mirror, my doctor came in. She looked very surprised that I was up and about already, but she was happy to see that I was doing well. She filled me in on the rest of the surgery, and told me I could check out that day.
Ty brought CT with him when he came to pick me up. CT promptly climbed into the bed with me, and my entire body filled with warmth at the sight of him. I smiled as I held my beautiful son in my arms. Between him and Ty over the next few weeks, I found a way through those darkest days.
As painful as this was for our little family, it was also the catalyst behind a very important decision. It was because of this loss that Ty and I finally decided to take an enormous leap of faith and go back to college. If we hadn't lost that baby, we would never have taken such a bold and frightening step.
After such an experience, we both knew that it was now or never.
Of course, life has an amazing way of bringing joy out of pain. Within 5 months of the miscarriage, I was pregnant again with our angel daughter. Life moves onward.
But now you see why "Invictus" speaks to me so powerfully. Pain and sorrow are a part of life. It's what we choose to do with it that makes us who we truly are.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
[Insert Post Title Here Because I Can't Think of One]
1) So...I've decided to create an award. No, it will not have any special rules. Okay, maybe one...but nothing too daunting I hope. It's just my way of expressing appreciation for my fellow bloggers. Yep. That's how nice I am. I haven't put it all together yet, but let's just say it will be making its appearance soon, so keep your eyes open! (Also, I am currently accepting bribes to help me choose the lucky bloggers who will be this award's first recipients!)
2) We took our son school shopping today. He's now the proud owner of a new "Phineas and Ferb" backpack, some nice new school clothes, and two new pairs of shoes. It's strange how quickly shopping can wear me out. Yes, I do occasionally get bitten by the "shopping bug" and enjoy a few hours of perusing and purchasing, but overall...it just makes me feel exhausted. [However, despite the tired-ness, tonight I did get a new pair of Converse Chuck slip-on shoes! They were on clearance! Woot!]
3) Poor Ty has been in misery lately. I don't mean that he's been in bed, howling for sympathy. That's just not his style. He's a real trooper, going about his usual business, but he's in a lot of pain. What is the cause of this pain, you ask? The dear man had one of his teeth pulled.
He had the offending molar filled back when we were first married, but the filling actually fell out just a few years later. It's been bothering him ever since, and he finally went in to try and get it fixed with a root canal. Sadly, the tooth was broken beyond any help, and he had to have it extracted. The resulting wound is taking its sweet time to heal though, so he has to suffer until it's done torturing him. Here's hoping that that will be soon!
4) Last but not least in this fit of rambling, I have made a prediction for the future of "America's Got Talent."
For those of you that don't know, Piers Morgan and Howie Mandel have been going head to head in an all-out verbal and mental brawl pretty much ever since Howie joined the Judges' panel. However, I think last night's show took their quiet war to a whole new level.
Last night, while watching the "Wild Card" episode, where the judges brought back 4 of their favorite overlooked acts for a second chance, Ty and I clearly saw what must have been something very near Piers' breaking point.
Howie brought back this RIDICULOUS act that was clearly not going to go through to the next round, simply because he KNEW that it would completely piss Piers off. Well, his diabolical plan worked flawlessly. It was as I watched Piers writhing in agony during this act's performance, with Howie watching Piers and laughing fit to burst that I made my prediction.
I turned to Ty and said: "You know, I think that it won't be long before 'America's Got Talent' breaks new ground with Piers Morgan..."
Ty, as though reading my mind, finished for me: "You mean by having the first ever publicly televised murder?"
I nodded, "You nailed it on the head!"
We both laughed a little, even though in my mind it is a very real concern. I mean, I know that in a lot of those reality type shows, even the smallest rivalries are trumped up far beyond truth for dramatic entertainment purposes. I really do know that. However...I just can't convince myself that the hatred between Piers and Howie is anything but very real. They try to gloss it over as best they can, but their pure, unadulterated animosity is pretty hard to miss.
Either way, just watch and see if I'm wrong. In the next year or so, I'd be willing to bet that Piers Morgan will either quit "America's Got Talent", or he'll go completely postal and brutally murder Howie Mandel on live television.
Personally, I think it's a toss up.
2) We took our son school shopping today. He's now the proud owner of a new "Phineas and Ferb" backpack, some nice new school clothes, and two new pairs of shoes. It's strange how quickly shopping can wear me out. Yes, I do occasionally get bitten by the "shopping bug" and enjoy a few hours of perusing and purchasing, but overall...it just makes me feel exhausted. [However, despite the tired-ness, tonight I did get a new pair of Converse Chuck slip-on shoes! They were on clearance! Woot!]
3) Poor Ty has been in misery lately. I don't mean that he's been in bed, howling for sympathy. That's just not his style. He's a real trooper, going about his usual business, but he's in a lot of pain. What is the cause of this pain, you ask? The dear man had one of his teeth pulled.
He had the offending molar filled back when we were first married, but the filling actually fell out just a few years later. It's been bothering him ever since, and he finally went in to try and get it fixed with a root canal. Sadly, the tooth was broken beyond any help, and he had to have it extracted. The resulting wound is taking its sweet time to heal though, so he has to suffer until it's done torturing him. Here's hoping that that will be soon!
4) Last but not least in this fit of rambling, I have made a prediction for the future of "America's Got Talent."
For those of you that don't know, Piers Morgan and Howie Mandel have been going head to head in an all-out verbal and mental brawl pretty much ever since Howie joined the Judges' panel. However, I think last night's show took their quiet war to a whole new level.
Last night, while watching the "Wild Card" episode, where the judges brought back 4 of their favorite overlooked acts for a second chance, Ty and I clearly saw what must have been something very near Piers' breaking point.
Howie brought back this RIDICULOUS act that was clearly not going to go through to the next round, simply because he KNEW that it would completely piss Piers off. Well, his diabolical plan worked flawlessly. It was as I watched Piers writhing in agony during this act's performance, with Howie watching Piers and laughing fit to burst that I made my prediction.
I turned to Ty and said: "You know, I think that it won't be long before 'America's Got Talent' breaks new ground with Piers Morgan..."
Ty, as though reading my mind, finished for me: "You mean by having the first ever publicly televised murder?"
I nodded, "You nailed it on the head!"
We both laughed a little, even though in my mind it is a very real concern. I mean, I know that in a lot of those reality type shows, even the smallest rivalries are trumped up far beyond truth for dramatic entertainment purposes. I really do know that. However...I just can't convince myself that the hatred between Piers and Howie is anything but very real. They try to gloss it over as best they can, but their pure, unadulterated animosity is pretty hard to miss.
Either way, just watch and see if I'm wrong. In the next year or so, I'd be willing to bet that Piers Morgan will either quit "America's Got Talent", or he'll go completely postal and brutally murder Howie Mandel on live television.
Personally, I think it's a toss up.
Friday, August 12, 2011
A Challenge...
Some of you might remember this post from a few months ago. What most of you probably don't know is that Doug from "I Like Cheese" issued a challenge to me after reading that post:
"Your next writing assignment is a list for people older than you. "
I know. What an evil taskmaster, right?
Well, I have to publicly proclaim that despite my best efforts, I just can't come up with anything to complete this assignment. The list I gave in my older post was the work of several years. That level of brilliance takes time!
Therefore, I am issuing a challenge to my wonderful readers: Help me make this list of nicknames for people older than me. (I'm 29, so we're talking ages 30 and above!)
Who is up to the task? Let me know, and I will gladly collaborate with you to create this post for Doug, so he won't send his cheese monsters after me. (Oh yeah, they exist, and he is NOT afraid to use them! What do you think happened to Lindsey Lohan?) Help!
PS: I'm officially at 25 Readers now! Happy Dance! :)
"Your next writing assignment is a list for people older than you. "
I know. What an evil taskmaster, right?
Well, I have to publicly proclaim that despite my best efforts, I just can't come up with anything to complete this assignment. The list I gave in my older post was the work of several years. That level of brilliance takes time!
Therefore, I am issuing a challenge to my wonderful readers: Help me make this list of nicknames for people older than me. (I'm 29, so we're talking ages 30 and above!)
Who is up to the task? Let me know, and I will gladly collaborate with you to create this post for Doug, so he won't send his cheese monsters after me. (Oh yeah, they exist, and he is NOT afraid to use them! What do you think happened to Lindsey Lohan?) Help!
PS: I'm officially at 25 Readers now! Happy Dance! :)
Saturday, August 6, 2011
End of Summer Random Ramblings...
The Summer is nearly over. I'm not sure how I feel about this.
I have very much enjoyed the last 3 1/2 months of having nothing to worry about but spending time with my adorable kids and reading as many books as I can cram into my few unoccupied hours. In just a couple of weeks, I'll be back in school again, and all that leisure will be gone until December. I often feel so guilty being a mother AND a full-time student because my thoughts are always so scattered, and often preoccupied with homework and everything that I need to be getting done for school. I sometimes feel as though I'm not giving my kids all the attention they deserve.
But I also feel so...alive when I'm going to school. Yes I'm a nerd, and I'm proud of it too. I LOVE my classes. I love learning and growing, and knowing that I am finally working toward something that has always meant so much to me. I'm addicted to education. I want to go on and complete graduate school through a doctorate degree. I. Love. It.
And...now that I have officially graduated with an Associate Degree in General Studies, (graduated with University Honors, thank you very much), I feel really motivated to finish my Bachelor's Degree. I'm halfway there! It also helps that I've finally settled on a major, and I intend to really stick with it this time. (Although if I did change my mind again, Ty would have something to laugh about for months to come!)
What is the final verdict on my major, you ask? A Bachelor of Science in Psychology with a double minor in Communications and Neuroscience. Yep. Wish me luck!
Our son will also be starting school on the same day as his parents. He'll be going to 1st grade. This means he will be gone ALL DAY LONG. It's so weird to think about this. I mean, I rarely see him during the day because he's always out playing with friends anyway, but this feels different somehow. It doesn't help that I will literally be putting his life into the hands of people I barely know.
He's going to be having lunch at school for the first time in his life, and he has a severe peanut allergy. Sending him to school, knowing that he will be in a cafeteria surrounded by kids with peanut butter sandwiches, peanut butter cookies, and who knows what other peanut products scares me half to death. Yes, he will have an epi-pen at school with him. And yes he knows how to avoid peanuts, but still I worry.
He's my son, and he means the world to me. I just can't handle the idea of something happening to him when I'm not there to protect him. (In case you couldn't tell, I am a paranoid, overprotective mother. But seriously, who can afford NOT to be like that these days?)
Okay, I think I'm done rambling for now. This is just all of the stuff that has been on my mind lately. Thanks for your patience. We now return you to your regularly scheduled weekend. :)
I have very much enjoyed the last 3 1/2 months of having nothing to worry about but spending time with my adorable kids and reading as many books as I can cram into my few unoccupied hours. In just a couple of weeks, I'll be back in school again, and all that leisure will be gone until December. I often feel so guilty being a mother AND a full-time student because my thoughts are always so scattered, and often preoccupied with homework and everything that I need to be getting done for school. I sometimes feel as though I'm not giving my kids all the attention they deserve.
But I also feel so...alive when I'm going to school. Yes I'm a nerd, and I'm proud of it too. I LOVE my classes. I love learning and growing, and knowing that I am finally working toward something that has always meant so much to me. I'm addicted to education. I want to go on and complete graduate school through a doctorate degree. I. Love. It.
And...now that I have officially graduated with an Associate Degree in General Studies, (graduated with University Honors, thank you very much), I feel really motivated to finish my Bachelor's Degree. I'm halfway there! It also helps that I've finally settled on a major, and I intend to really stick with it this time. (Although if I did change my mind again, Ty would have something to laugh about for months to come!)
What is the final verdict on my major, you ask? A Bachelor of Science in Psychology with a double minor in Communications and Neuroscience. Yep. Wish me luck!
Our son will also be starting school on the same day as his parents. He'll be going to 1st grade. This means he will be gone ALL DAY LONG. It's so weird to think about this. I mean, I rarely see him during the day because he's always out playing with friends anyway, but this feels different somehow. It doesn't help that I will literally be putting his life into the hands of people I barely know.
He's going to be having lunch at school for the first time in his life, and he has a severe peanut allergy. Sending him to school, knowing that he will be in a cafeteria surrounded by kids with peanut butter sandwiches, peanut butter cookies, and who knows what other peanut products scares me half to death. Yes, he will have an epi-pen at school with him. And yes he knows how to avoid peanuts, but still I worry.
He's my son, and he means the world to me. I just can't handle the idea of something happening to him when I'm not there to protect him. (In case you couldn't tell, I am a paranoid, overprotective mother. But seriously, who can afford NOT to be like that these days?)
Okay, I think I'm done rambling for now. This is just all of the stuff that has been on my mind lately. Thanks for your patience. We now return you to your regularly scheduled weekend. :)
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