Yum.

I went to the doctor yesterday and told her,

"I think I have a sinus infection. Gross mucus, pain in the face." And gestured to my face. She nodded. Not bored, really, but same old story.

"And my cheek inside my mouth hurts. Please look at it."

I think she thought I was being overly dramatic. I have a tendency to be a hypochondriac.

"Did you bite your cheek?"

"No. I think that is from my sinuses. My jaw hurts too. Kinda weird."

"Hmmm. It's been awhile since you've taken anything. I'm going to put you on something stronger."

"So is it from my sinuses then?"

"You definitely have an infection."

Now I can't remember where I was going with that story. But my face hurts.

So I'll post what I meant to post in the first place.

The Most Wonderful Recipe For Corn Casserole You Will Ever Eat
(A.K.A. Corn Casserole Paula Deen style)
(A.K.A. You may as well just eat the stick of butter)
(A.K.A. Holy Hell No Wonder You've Gained Weight Kara!)

1 (15 1/4-ounce) can whole kernel corn, drained
1 (14 3/4-ounce) can cream-style corn
1 (8-ounce) package corn muffin mix (recommended: Jiffy)
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted
1 to 1 1/2 cups shredded Cheddar
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.


In a large bowl, stir together the 2 cans of corn, corn muffin mix, sour cream, and melted butter. Pour into a greased 9 by 13-inch casserole dish. Bake for 45 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove from oven and top with Cheddar. Return to oven for 5 to 10 minutes, or until cheese is melted. Let stand for at least 5 minutes and then serve warm.

Maybe If You Just Relax: Evelyn and Ainsley.

My cup runneth over

"Dear Jesus,
Thank you (for) reindeer. Thank you cousins. Aunts, Uncles. Thank you mommy daddy.
Amen."

A season of sweetness

I was really planning on fixing that train tunnel.

But I decided to drink margaritas instead.

I know, good mother/Santa elf huh? In my defense it was my birthday today so I did kind of have an excuse, although by the time I left the restaurant I could barely fit into my pants. I'm not used to drinking calorie-laden drinks on top of a large meal.

But it was delicious.

Speaking of calorie-laden...I managed to bake some pretty fantastic sugar cookies with my aunt's not-so-secret-anymore recipe (see below), and tomorrow am going to tackle frosting.

I use a bag to pipe on the frosting because I think it looks better, but as I was shopping at Wal-Mart at 9 p.m. last night I decided I didn't need to use any food coloring and instead bought colored sprinkles and white frosting.

I don't know if it is a case of work smarter not harder...or weariness from all the Christmas joy I have been spreading lately.

Perhaps both.

Speaking of spreading Christmas joy, I found my dear son in his room peeing into his large toy combine yesterday.

Christmas goodies

Holden wants a train tunnel for Christmas. This one is approximately $7 online. This is what I want his train tunnel to look like. Why didn't I order this one, you ask? I'm not really sure except I think he would break it within the first 10 minutes of owning it.
This is what our train tunnel actually looks like. My husband constructed it and did a good job but I am struggling with how to make it look like a mountain tunnel. I understand I have an almost-three year old and he doesn't care. The mountain tunnel thing is probably more for me than for him...

Christmas fun!

I'm also thinking about making my two all-time favorite recipes this week:

The best part about the recipe is that it's written in my mom's handwriting.

Bavarian Mints

1 lb milk chocolate

1 square baking chocolate

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 tsp. butter

1 tsp vanilla

5-8 drops peppermint oil

Melt chocolate and butter in double boiler over med. heat. Stir chocolate. Warm a glass bowl and add chocolate, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, and peppermint oil in warm bowl. Mix medium speed 2 minutes. Cover and refrigerate for 1/2 hour taking out every 10 min. and beat on high speed for 1 minute. Line pan with wax paper and spread in pan. Refrigerate and cut in small squares.

And recipe from my aunt:

No Fail Cut Out Sugar Cookies

1 C. butter

2 C. Sugar

2 eggs

1/2 C. Sour cream

1 tsp. vanilla

5 C. flour

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. almond extract

Preheat oven to 375 F. Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, sour cream and extracts. Combine dry ingredients in a medium bowl. Add to butter mixture about 1 cup at a time. Roll out dough on well floured surface (remember to flour top of dough before rolling). Roll to desired thickness. Cut and place on cookie sheet. Bake 8-10 minutes or until golden brown.

You should double this recipe when you make it because people will eat soooo many of these!

I don't get what all the fuss is about. What is it about turning 30 that gets people so worked up? If you have spent your time doing things you cared about and enjoyed your life, who cares if you're getting older?

At least until age 32-33 which is considered the time when women are their most attractive (at least according to the studies I have seen). So I figure I have at least a few more good years in me before my boobs hit my waistline.

If you know me and you do the math, you may wonder why I am even posting about turning 30. I am only twenty-nine next week.

I have no good reason, I was just thinking about it. And I hadn't posted in awhile.

Also, I am suddenly completely allergic to all eye makeup. Ideas? Help!

I have been working on a few anxiety issues. I know that it is out of control because I am fairly certain other people don't avoid letting their children wear hooded sweatshirts when they are away from home.

The anxious thoughts go something like this...if I am not there to watch him closely he could accidentally hang himself.

I also don't like it when he eats anything...hard because I am terrified he will choke.

I am aware this catastrophic thinking isn't normal and sometimes it is not fun to be in my head. But yesterday everytime I had a thought (like Tony and Holden getting into a car accident) I replaced it with repeating to myself 'I am blessed'.

And also decided last week that psychotherapy is probably a good idea. Maybe have a little PTSD.

On a much lighter note, I am done with my semester today! I am so ready for Christmas festivities.

I went to walmart today with Holden and the Salvation army bell ringer had brought his own tiny radio. He was playing polka music. It made me smile.

I wrote this from my phone so if its seems disjointed that is why.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

One. more. week.

And then all the craziness stops.

The mental health nursing rotation is over.

The running around.

The insane extended family issues.

I know what you're thinking...It's only the beginning of December--the running around and multiple family members have only just begun working at unraveling your sanity.

But I refuse to participate. I'm going to sit this one out like an awkward sixth grade girl who pretends she has menstrual cramps to get out of gym class.

I'm going to show up to my (and my in-laws) family events, toast one glass of white wine to the sugared-up masses and keep my cool throughout the holidays.

No gift? I'll give cash.

Blizzard outside? I have a crackling yule log DVD I'll pop in the DVD player.

Car inexplicably overheating in 7 degree weather? No problem, I'll just add some antifreeze and 5W-30 oil, because clearly the oil isn't viscous enough and is causing the engine to work too hard in the cold.

Office Christmas party? Sorry, couldn't find a babysitter.

Can't fit in my jeans? I'll wear yoga pants.



And when I have more time you and I will have a hearty chuckle about the pipe under my kitchen sink literally exploding on Thanksgiving morning while my hubby and I (and my sister-in-law) were preparing the meal.

It was really fun.

Tongue-in-Cheek

A little conversational gem from my Thanksgiving dinner,

"Feed your baby garlic and you can always find him in the dark."

My great-grandmother (who had 9 children) used to say it and my grandmother passed it on to me.

I guess you'd have to have had a sense of humor taking care of 9 children in the 1930's.

Watching The Grinch

1st ever cheesecake. Not so good. Not bad, but not good either. Apparently when it looks done--it's overdone. I'll have to remember that for next year. And also figure out how to cut it without it looking like Holden cut it. It is also currently located on top of the car in the garage.

Yum.

Day before Thanksgiving just-in-case turkey. We cut up the meat so we would have extra for the big Turkey day and I have another one brining in a 5 gallon bucket in the garage, ready to be slathered in canola oil and baked for a few hours. I'm taking credit but my husband really did most of the work on the turkeys. I did make homemade vegetable stock for the brine though.

I'm looking forward to this Thanksgiving. My 2009 Thanksgiving meal was a piece of chocolate cheesecake next to my dad's bed, so I'm ready for some turkey and mashed potatoes.

I'm also thinking of going to the new Harry Potter movie tonight.

Two turkeys and a ham walked into a bar...

Is it wrong that this morning at 6:10 a.m. when my cat walked into the kitchen and vomited on the floor I waited a couple minutes to clean it up to see if the dogs would eat it?

I know, gross.

On Saturday I found another cake stand for $4. Tony asked me why I keep buying cake stands and I told him it's because then I will have plenty when I open my bakery. And also, it fills the space above my kitchen cabinets with pretty things.

I am in charge of the basics of Thanksgiving this year so my fridge is filled to the brim with 2 turkeys and a ham. Don't ask on the two turkeys thing...it wasn't well thought out. I did buy a cool digital thermometer that you can set to the desired internal temperature and it will beep. Haven't quite figured out how I'm going to use it for two turkeys at the same time. Also, my search for fresh sage has been futile, so if you know where I can find some let me know.

The last thing you should see before I go clean my entire house is this website for pumpkin cheesecake

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas (again)

My newest frenemy is a half gallon bucket of white chocolate macadamia nut cookie dough my mother-in-law gave us for free a couple weeks ago.

I am almost through the semester and I expect things to settle down in approximately 3 weeks. I have been so desperately craving sunlight lately that I went and tanned. That is clearly not a healthy solution so I'm thinking of buying a light box. Do any of you have them? Do they work?

Curious as to what is at the top of my Christmas list this year? A new will and testament and revokable trust. I'm pretty damn exciting, huh?
Tony's Christmas list isn't much better.

I feel so grown up. It's like when you're a teenager and you say you'll never become "the man" but somehow most of us eventually do.

I'm curious as to why when people who don't have fertility problems talk about how they want another child no one tells them to,

'Just be happy with what you have'.

Maybe happiness with the child I have is the reason I want another one. Of course if you read my blog you already know better than to say ignorant things to people regarding fertility and pregnancy. Right?

Right.

Blah-g

I used to always tell people fall is my favorite time of year. I think I even told you that recently.

Upon further reflection, I'm pretty sure I was wrong. Is it possible to be wrong about your own favorite season? Fall used to be my favorite season. The football, the chill in the air, the crisp leaves and the colors.

But now ringing (true) in my ears are my therapist's words from last year about seasonal affective disorder and her suggestion that I consider buying daylight spectrum lights for my house. Because it might make me feel better.

I think it might.

Now before you go telling me you can't cure depression with daylight spectrum lights I have to tell you it's more of a funk than depression. I think it's more related to exhaustion than any actual chemical imbalance.

So perhaps 10-12 hours of sleep and then 12-14 hours of daylight spectrum light would help.

I think I can pinpoint the year that fall dropped off the top of my favorite list. It was fall 2002. I have just been hanging on with the hope that it will climb back to the top. I think I am finally willing to concede that my favorite season is now officially summer.

My reasoning:
1) It is the sunniest of all the seasons
2) It is my husband's favorite season and therefore best mood(s)
3) No one I love (besides a dog) has died in the summer.


As an aside...Do you think perhaps this change in love of seasons is sort of like everything in marriage? At some point things start to merge the longer you are together, even down to your looks?

School is sucking all the inspiration out of me.

I keep hoping my writers block will un-block but no such luck. I spent all day yesterday writing about 6000 words and preparing two presentations and am still not done with my homework. I literally had to quit typing because my left pinkie finger went numb.

I have to finish that 6000 word project, write two papers, and study for a test today.

I'm not a fan of busywork.

And Holden was awake last night until 11:30.

I have forbidden him from eating any more of his Halloween candy.

More Halloween fun to come...I promise I will post soon!

So today my child broke a flat screen TV. It gets worse: The TV wasn't ours!

I have a gracious friend/babysitter who didn't freak out (at least not to us) about it, but we're still obviously buying them a new TV.

I'm not really sure what to say to Holden about the TV incident. I don't think he really understood that when he hit the TV, it would break.

So it was an unpleasant surprise for all.

I've just been reminding him that we don't ever touch the TV with anything.
And that I know he didn't mean to break it on purpose but we have to be careful.

The poor kid couldn't stop talking about it when he was supposed to be going to sleep.
I want him to feel a little guilty but not to lose sleep over it!

It's only a few (ouch) hundred dollars.

I don't have much to say except this:

Pumpkin Gooey Butter Cake.

Meditations

I am reading a tiny book called 'Mothers' Manual' given to me by a friend of my mother-in-law when I was in the hospital after I had Allison. She had lost a 5 year old son years before and sent me a book of prayer & meditation. I found it the other day while I was looking through the box of Ally's things.



(a few of the meditations in the back of the prayer book)



"Cheerfulness and self-control on my part...These may mean much to the emotional well-being and proper development of my child."



"My home...It is highly important that I endeavor to make it an attractive, cheerful place for my husband and my children."



"My husband's job of providing and managing family affairs may be vexing and worrisome. The home as an attractive place when he returns from work...My readiness to share his concerns...Words of encouragement--and of praise at times...The tenderness of understanding and wifely affection when he is worried or discouraged."



It would be easy to write some of these off,



"The attractiveness of my person--even inside the home...In the morning--before my husband leaves for work...a nourishing breakfast according to his preferences? My appearance in serving it...attractive? And cheerful? When my husband returns from work, an attractive, pleasant appearance on my part can mean much."



But for some reason I really became unsettled about all this. Because maybe I am more conservative/traditional than I thought. I can see a ring of truth to this. Perhaps it needs to be slightly modified for modern day...but I see it.



Maybe the shift in society from these traditional ideas (and certainly I wasn't raised this way--both parents worked and were exhausted when we were all together) has a lot to do with the dwindling family unit. I'm obviously not a sociologist. I don't spend much time thinking about it, aside from the Focus on the Family newsletters I occasionally get in my inbox.


But I'm starting to think maybe I have missed something. Something big.

Even as a stay-at-home mother I wasn't (am not) putting enough value on it within my own life.

I guess I've just never read a job description quite like this before.

Joy is steadfast in sorrow.

One year ago today

Today I spent the day alone. I shopped, ate, and drove in the beautiful weather.
I started thinking about last year at this time.

As it has in the past, it occurred to me just how closely God walked with me through last year. There is no way I would have been able to do any of it on my own. I was thinking about how I used to drive to the hospital 4-6 days a week with an 18 month old, attend school/clinical 3 days a week, take care of my child, house and dogs, and about my husband working full-time and going to school full-time. I got to thinking about the people who helped us through it--who are still helping us through.
I am so blessed.

I know by now I shouldn't be surprised at the Lord's faithfulness, but sometimes I still am.

"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

5/8ths of the way done! Only a semester and a half left...

After I finished my final this morning I drove about 300 miles picking up and distributing 640 lbs. of frozen beef.

I think I pulled a muscle.

The good news is I have 80 lbs. of assorted beef products in my freezer. However, I have a problem with meat products that are in their original form (you know how sometimes if you order fried catfish they just dip the whole thing in the fryer--head and all? That sort of thing).

I just realized how often this happens to me: Shrimp, or nearly any seafood. Even when fish skins are left on it bothers me. Chicken can sometimes do it--the wings and drumsticks. And TURKEY!!

I prefer eating turkey sandwiches the day after Thanksgiving.

I could do without the whole bird in the oven thing.

Not that any of those has actually stopped me from eating a meal. Except the catfish thing, I really couldn't eat the catfish.

My 300 mile trip today was mostly on an empty highway through farm ground and everywhere I looked the farmers were harvesting corn. It was 70 degrees and sunny. I love fall.

October Love

I am thisclose to being done with (what I think will be) the most difficult part of school for this year. Final on Wednesday. Woo Hoo!

Today I went in to see my hairdresser and said,

"I want it dark."

She raised her eyebrows,

"How dark?"

I smiled,

"Halloween dark."

She started laughing,

"Did you say halloween dark?"

See? I do have a sense of humor...sometimes.

So I was sitting in her chair with foil in my hair trying to read Elle Decor (which is pretty good by the way) with techno music blaring in the background, and all of a sudden Whitney Houston's version of I will always love you comes on as a music video.

So I'm thinking, that's weird--techno to Whitney Houston and all of a sudden it turns into a techno mix.

It was as bad as you can imagine.

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

My entire life I have never had a hobby. First I was too busy with sports, and then too busy with school, and then Holden came along and I was too busy for anything.

But now that he is a little older I have found something I love to do. I don't know if it came from my parents or if it's something I would have loved to do anyway.

When I was a kid, our family vacations consisted of driving across the country to antique stores and auctions looking for antiques. I don't like the same kind of antiques they did, but I certainly love going to auctions. It's the perfect hobby for someone who is cheap and loves vintage (read: old stuff. And as a bonus, nearly every farm auction I attend has Pyrex glassware which is my favorite thing to find (and use!).

Holden and I went to one yesterday and found some cool rectangular shaped ones (right side of picture).

Red Rum

I'm not sure how I always find myself in creepy hotels...but I forgot to tell you that last weekend it happened again.

Let me paint you a picture:
Industrial Area
Kansas City, MO.
We walk into the hotel and everything seems okay at first. The furnishings are an ultra modern style but obviously dated (maybe 1990's?). The paintings on the wall are modern and vaguely disconcerting for some reason I can't quite put my finger on.

We check in.

We walk around the corner to the elevator and I start to feel unsettled. There is no one in this hotel. I mean literally no one.

The hallways felt very much like The Shining.

Of course, we were there with friends for a football game the next day so the other two couples we were with were staying on the same floor (6th floor).

We get in the elevator. It doesn't really work properly, which I wasn't terribly concerned about but things still just seem off.

We unlock our room and it is sort of nice, although the bathroom seems like it was remodeled with scraps. It was odd, but at least it was clean with no evidence of bedbugs.
We went down to the lounge to have drinks and found what were perhaps the only other guests in the hotel--a group of about 6 people. One of whom had a nice mullet.

Went back to our room. It was very, very quiet--which was actually a nice change from most hotels I have stayed in. I was feeling okay about the whole situation, until we got up the next morning to check out and have the continental breakfast.

The desk attendant let us know that breakfast was served at 7 a.m. and waved toward a long hallway. We wandered quite a ways down a deserted hallway, past a closed restaurant (which was actually physically dusty, chairs on tables, dark, etc.) into a small room where they had set up a coffee machine and strangely enough...an omelet station with a "chef" taking orders.

I eschewed breakfast and coffee and started back down the winding hallway to the car. On the way I couldn't help but peek into the ballroom of the 'convention center' where it was dark--but I could see messy, overturned tables. At that point I had that somewhat familiar gut feeling that I should get the hell out of there.

Turned, and walked out the door.

I honestly don't have any particular complaint about the place. Just a strange uneasiness when I think about it.

Next time we're staying at the Plaza.

An acquaintance, having a short conversation with me, says,

"So when are you going to have another one?" Gesturing to my dear son.

Although I feel like they punched me in the gut, I smile and say lightly (and vaguely),

"We're not sure yet. Maybe when Holden is a little older."

When what I'd really like to say is this:

"I just had a kid last year. A kid that you don't see here because she is dead."

How do you think they would respond to that? *awkward silence*

On that light note, I will say I am at the point of considering trying to get pregnant again.

I said considering. I'm certainly not announcing anything--there is such a long leap from considering to trying. Based upon the beginning of this post, perhaps I'm not quite ready.

Maybe someday, when Holden is a little older.

Harvest Moon

I am not a proponent of co-sleeping. Not at all. I like my space. Given a choice between sleeping by myself and with my husband, I choose by myself.
I know it probably sounds weird to some of you.

A shared bed does not a good marriage make (at least my personal opinion and I am qualified because I have a good marriage).
Sleep, on the other hand--I'd be willing to vote for. Two well rested individuals get along much better than two sleep deprived ones. And they also have more energy for...other things.

But that isn't even the topic I meant to discuss...

As many of you know, Holden has never been a good sleeper.

Please don't tell me about your kid who slept through the night at 6 weeks old.

There is nothing worse you can do to someone who hasn't slept much in 2 1/2 years than look incredulously at them when they tell you their sleep woes and say something like that.

It doesn't help. Not helpful.

Or maybe you thought about giving them advice about your "tricks" to get the kid to sleep? Because they haven't tried everything under the moon?

Also not a good idea.

Anyway, off the soapbox and back on the couch. Holden was really sick this week and had bronchiolitis and was croup-y with some stridor (upper airway swelling). It was not fun and in order to listen for him at night I let him sleep with me in bed.

And now I'm afraid I may have altered my entire sleeping life until the kid is in third grade. He would rather cry most of the night than sleep alone in his room.







PS. Last day of September! Woo Hoo!!

Okay, two things.

1. Yesterday I went the entire day with one of those size stickers on the back of my pants (because they were new and I was too lazy to wash them first). It was pretty high up on my butt and I was wearing a long scrub jacket, but still.

At least someone told me, finally.

Maybe no one else noticed, but I seriously doubt that.

2. Today I went to the gym after class and noticed in the locker room that I had been wearing my pants backward all day. I thought they didn't look right in the mirror this morning but was wearing waaaay too baggy black lounge pants because my abdomen still hurts from surgery...

Did I tell you I had a laparoscopy a little over a week ago? But I digress.

I think some long hard sleep is definitely in my future.

And tomorrow I'm going to put my pants on correctly.

You may have already noticed this about me, but I'm a little bit of a perfectionist. That is probably why I tend to point out personal flaws on my blog...because I'm my own worst critic.

I am the kind of student my husband hates. If we were in the same class in school he would roll his eyes at me. I answer questions in class. I hate to not understand something. I like knowing the answer before the question is asked.

Sometimes I have to remind my dear husband that if I don't know something I could kill someone...It's not like the 8:00 a.m. freshman psych class I think I only actually attended about 3 times. It's like real life. It's someone's mom or dad or sister or brother or child. Which makes it more stressful, but I suppose more rewarding in a way.

I think for me learning good patient care might be something I needed to wait to do until I was older. In this way I am glad that I am closer to 30 and still in school.

I have a different perspective now because it was my dad in the ICU bed for 9 months. It was me holding my still-warm stillborn daughter Allison in my arms (by the way all you healthcare workers who read this--they put me back in labor and delivery afterward--what the hell were they thinking?) , it was me visiting my mom in a locked psychiatric ward when I was in 7th grade.

You can't teach empathy and compassion like that.

I'm starting to believe it can only truly be learned in the most heart wrenching way.

Experience.

The full size comforter I bought (on clearance!) for $30 today at Wal-Mart showed a big Mickey Mouse on the front of the package...and as I took it off the shelf I smiled at my stroke of luck.

Holden will love it.

I got it home and (I'm pretty sure this isn't normal) was absolutely delighted to open it up and see that not only does it have Mickey Mouse on it, Donald Duck and Goofy are there too!

I seriously need to get out more.

I have always loathed September. And loathe isn't too strong a word. September is second to the bottom of my list (January being my most hated month).

The good news is we're halfway to October. I love October!

I don't have much else to say really. I'm sorry I have been largely absent, but my yearly September depression has set in.

A few things that cheer me:

Fresh peach cobbler. Warm peach cobbler with soft serve vanilla ice cream.

Listening to Holden praying. Thanking Jesus for marshmallows, doggies, and mowers.

Holden's two favorite books, read every night before bed.

Being in my husbands arms.

Corn almost ready for harvest across the road.

Cool mornings.

The counselor I went to see (quite awhile ago now) told me that this summer and fall might get progressively worse emotionally before they get better (instead of better gradually and continually--which is what happened when my mom died).

She was right.

I am struggling in my clinicals--though not academically or practically...just emotionally. I think I'm burned out, but don't know how that is possible when I'm not even working as a nurse yet.

I'm too emotional. Things that never affected me before affect me now.

All I want is to get off the floor and work somewhere happy and not too stressful. Like mother/baby or in the nursery. Or surgery, where the procedure is done and then the patient is gone. Or same day surgery where relatively healthy people walk in and right back out a few hours later.

Anywhere but somewhere I have to delve into medical histories and personal histories and try to manage everyone else's problems along with my own emotions for 12 hours. Or spoon feed people who are never going to get better and die in an institution.

It's depressing the hell out of me.

I guess I just didn't realize how much those 9 months on the other side of the hospital room door as family and caregiver affected me. Now every time I walk onto the floor of the hospital I have to work to distract myself from thinking of my dad.

I am currently online streaming my husband doing color commentary for a football game. Which, if you know him you would know is pretty much his dream internship. Talking about football for 4 hours straight.

Three other things:

1) I had the night to myself and went to work out (good), but then went to Wal-Mart (Not good. Not relaxing. Not where I want to be on a Friday night).

2) As I was standing in line I passed over Cosmopolitan to look at Better Homes and Gardens.

Whenever I try to convince myself I don't feel a day older than 22...something like this happens.

Although, if you can believe this I did learn from the Cosmo cover that pubic hair is back in style.

Just thought you might want to know. For further opinion on the subject click here


Why would the editors put that on the cover of their magazine?


3) I've been awake since 3 a.m. for clinicals and I couldn't figure out why people kept looking at me in Wal-Mart. Maybe it's the mascara smudged underneath my eyes. Or my t-shirt with a clorox stain that I work out in. I think I have something stuck to my butt too. Something I sat in, probably something Holden left on the kitchen chair.

I attended the wedding reception of my oldest friend today. We only see each other about once a year now, but met when we were four years old.

Her mother used to babysit me, and we bonded immediately because we were the only girls in the house and both thumb-suckers until at least age 7.

I found myself more emotional at this wedding than I have been at any I have ever attended.

Maybe it's the passage of time, maybe it was my stunning redheaded friend standing in front of me in a sparkling white dress. Maybe it's remembering all the times we used to take pillowcases, put them over our hair, walk down a fake aisle and pretend to be brides...mothers...wives.


I'm getting all weepy just typing it.


This morning in the car I was listening to the Focus on the Family broadcast--they were celebrating Jim and Shirley's 50th anniversary. They played a clip of the prayer said (by Dr. Dobson's father) at Dr. Dobson's wedding,
and I just wanted to post it because, well, I'm feeling pretty sentimental.

O eternal God: We bring Thee our children, They were Thine but Thou in love didst lend them to us for a little season: to care for, to love and to cherish. It has been a labor of love and has seemed but a few days because of the affection we bear them. Fresh from Thy hand they were, in the morning of our lives. Clean and upright, but yet two separate personalities. Tonight we give them back to Thee–no longer as two–but as one flesh. May nothing short of death dissolve the union here cemented. And to this end let the marvelous grace of God do its perfect work!

It is also our earnest prayer for them, not that God shall have a part in their lives, but that He shall have the preeminent part; not that they shall possess faith, but that faith shall fully possess them both; that in a materialistic world they shall not lie for the earthly and temporal alone, but that they shall be enabled to lay hold on that which is spiritual and eternal.

Let their lives together be like the course of the sun: rising in strength, going forth in power and shining more and more unto the perfect day. Let the end of their lives resemble the setting of the sun: going down in a sea of glory, only to shine on undimmed in the firmament of a better world than this.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

To listen to Friday's Family Talk broadcast:

http://www.oneplace.com/ministries/family-talk/

Static

I've been debating with myself over whether to post this or not, but I have to comment. I just have to.

I was having a conversation with someone the other night, and this person said (to paraphrase),

'I don't see the point in having a 10 year reunion because no one has changed at all except the expected changes anyway. I know I haven't changed at all.'

I think there were three people sitting in the conversation. No one responded. I'm not sure if the mutual silence was recoil or if the other people were in agreement with this (apparently stunted) individual. It took me a minute to regain my voice, but then I tried to gracefully and tactfully respond that I couldn't think of anything that hadn't changed in my life.

I find myself replaying this conversation and feeling vaguely sorry for this person right now.

But this blog isn't about other people, it's about me. And it's about how the one thing I took away from this weekend is that as I've grown up I have learned and I hope many others have too...I have never felt regret for being kind to people.

And really kind.

Not just to their face, in your head too. Wish them well, be interested in their lives. Other people's successes are not your failures. Most people are just like you, trying to get by.

It is totally worth the extra effort.

But I'm not gonna lie, I'm not planning another reunion. Ever again. Or if you want the unedited version directly from my brain:

When hell freezes over.

So here are a few of the great pics from last night! This is K and I at the Starlite lounge. K is my friend who watches Holden 2-3 days a week and he loves her. She also helped get me through last year with her encouraging emails. I really don't know how I would have made it through otherwise. It seems like everytime I was down and totally exhausted I would receive an uplifting email from her, telling me she was praying for me. I totally don't have her permission to post her picture, but she looks great here so I don't think she will care.

My wonderful husband happens to have graduated in the same class as me.

No we did not date in high school.

This 28 year old isn't used to 3 a.m. two nights in a row.

I'm ready for a nap.

Mostly Sunny

So the weekend is here, finally.
10 year class reunion here I come.

I have to say, with the kid at grandma's house (and only minor problems there--Grandma had to take him to urgent care for a quick x-ray of a bruised foot/ankle bone...poor kid), and the husband golfing with an old high school buddy, I have nothing to do but stretch out in my bed and rest my eyes.

Or read a book.

Or dance around the house half-naked listening to early seventies music, flat ironing my hair, ironing my clothes, and putting on makeup.

What?

Don't pretend like you don't do it when given the rare opportunity.

Under the big top

I spent yesterday driving halfway across the state with my grandmother. Perhaps the most interesting thing I learned yesterday is this:

My people are nomadic circus people. No Joke.

My Great-grandmother grew up in a traveling circus and her father used to be a tight rope walker.

This is so interesting I seriously couldn't have even made it up.

It also explains me and the funnel cake.

But I want it all

As I was loosely following my daily routine today, I started thinking about passion. I wonder how many people actually do something they love on a daily basis. I also wonder how many people started out doing something they love and ended up somewhere else.

I must first say I love spending time at home with my son. He is a little ray of sunshine, and a blessing in my life.

This morning I started thinking about the few times within the last few months that I can recall a clear and abundant feeling of exhilaration with what I was doing
(of course excluding marital moments which isn't exactly the topic at hand here! ;)

The first is when I was doing simulation as charge nurse at school. That felt right.

The second was when I was driving home from an auction where I found some great deals and spent only $18. I went on a whim, spent the morning bidding, and every time I see the antique primary colored Pyrex mixing bowls I bought (among other things) sitting in the cupboard, it makes me smile.

Now, it is unclear to me whether the feeling of exhilaration from these activities is because I am meant to do them or because I am an adrenaline junkie. I have a tendency to believe it is the latter, because I also love roller coasters and scary movies and almost became a paramedic instead of a nurse.

The other time I feel my best is when I am baking. Anything. I would open a bakery if I thought I could actually make money doing it.

Is there some way to open a bakery/antique shop, have children, and work 3 shifts as a nurse on the side?


Do you love your job now? What would you do if money were no object?

The Scenic Route

I was flat-ironing my hair this morning and wondering about my class reunion, which I briefly mentioned in my last post. It is causing me a lot of anxiety, even though I have seen pretty much all of the people who will be there at least once since I graduated from high school.

I think the most anxiety producing aspect of a reunion for me is making small talk. I've never been good at it. In a rare mood I can turn on the charm and be "on" for an hour or two. If I drink half of a fifth of vodka it can last slightly longer (that's 8 drinks for anyone interested). My husband is the one with the sparkle, and I am content to sit back and enjoy people watching.

I don't want to talk about my life much. A conversation isn't like a blog.

I don't have an hour to edit it.

I don't want to talk to my former cross-country teammate or the people who worked with me in the lunch line about how since high school both my parents have died, I have been pregnant 5 times, gotten married, been in school intermittently and haven't finished yet (nor will I for many years), my career goals, or retirement plans.

The only thing I feel is a safe topic is my wonderful child, and I definitely don't want to be one of those boring people who only want to talk about their kids.

But maybe I am.

How about politics, religion, or the economy?

Maybe I should pay a visit to the MSN wonderwall ?

I should not be wasting time thinking about this on a Tuesday morning.

As you may be able to tell productivity is my middle name these days.

I think my husband may have been a carnie in a former life. He made me funnel cake tonight...mostly as an experiment because he knows about my complete obsession with funnel cake.

Something about the way the powdered sugar melts into the hot golden brown batter and oil of a funnel cake fresh out of the pan. Oh my.

I am beginning to think maybe my husband doesn't like to be able to feel my hip bones when he grabs my waist...because he has made me 3 fried dishes this week. Crab cakes, fish tacos (with homemade beer battered fried fish), and funnel cake.

Ten year class reunion here I come.

While he was standing over the hot oil, he turned around and found me standing at the kitchen counter, fried batter in hand, pajama top and face covered in a light dusting of powdered sugar.

Yes, that's me.

Sexy.

He encouraged me to eat another whole funnel cake but I told him about my rule about one funnel cake per year.

No really, it's my rule. So I dusted myself off and held my ground.

Then we had a rather lengthy discussion about how a funnel cake might taste when it is reheated-- and I pointed out that I don't think I've ever had a funnel cake last long enough to wonder if it tasted good reheated.

Really.

So now my carnie husband is boxing up the remaining funnel cakes to share with his coworkers on a work-related road trip tomorrow.

Do you think cold funnel cake tastes like doughnuts in the morning?

Out of the mouths of babes

I spent the morning looking for a baptismal gift for my cousin (who is 10 and getting baptized tomorrow--we are the Godparents). While I was perusing the children's Bible section, I let Holden go play with one of those wire and wood toys that doctor's offices and random stores have sitting around to keep kids busy. When I was ready to leave, I picked him up and he threw a fit (which I should have seen coming).

Don't judge me. Instead of telling him no, paying and walking out with a screaming child as I should have done--I thought to myself...stickers! The kid loves stickers, so I used that to distract him. We found some Jesus stickers and bought them. I felt okay about it since I was going to start using stickers for potty training anyway.

As we left the store, I peeled off a Jesus sticker, handed it to him, and strapped him into his car seat on our way to HyVee to buy a cake frosted with a blue buttercream cross.

We got a few blocks away and I started listening to Holden, who carries his own "cell phone" in his car seat and has long phone conversations that usually consist of "Heyyyo?" and "Bye!". I glanced in the rearview mirror and my dear child had put the Jesus sticker on the earpiece of the phone and was holding it to his ear.

"What are you doing, Holden?" I asked.

Matter-of-factly he said,

"Talking (to) Jesus."

I'll Be Seeing You

My 80 year old grandmother (my dad's mom) had 8 siblings. For as long as I can remember, during the last full weekend in July, I have attended the family reunion. It's been held at different locations throughout the years...but two things I have always been able to count on

1) good food
2) my dad being there with me

Of course the food was good this year. I even won the raffle prize (a CD player). My family was wonderful as always. But I have to admit I had to force myself to go. I'm glad I went--that we enjoyed the beautiful weather, talked to family and sang to my great-uncles' piano and guitar all night long.

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through.

In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children's carousel;
The chestnut trees;
The wishin' well.

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day;
In every thing that's light and gay.
I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is new.
I'll be looking at the moon,
But I'll be seeing you.

I got home from my time away from home and felt relieved, my home is as it should be--a sanctuary for my little family and me.

A soft place to land.

I think I say it all the time, but it can't hurt to say it again...I didn't know it was possible to feel so deeply. To have a sense of belonging so complete.

A place where joy and sorrow are equally shared.

I was standing in the hall the other day while Holden was trying to carry his tricycle around me and not having much luck.

"Dooch bag." He said. I stood there with my mouth hanging open, trying not to laugh.

"What did you say honey?"

"Dooch bag!"

Tony looked at me. "Did he just say...?"

I laughed, "Say it one more time, Holden."

"Dooch bag!!"

"Oh!" Still laughing,

I scooched back. He smiled and hopped on his tricycle.

"Thank you mommy!"

My hard drive crashed so I am offline for a couple weeks...will try to post soon anyway

When you came in, the air went out.

I ate a whole bag of pretzel M & M's this week.

Have you tried them? They taste kind of like peanut M & M's only with less calories. How many less, I am not sure...but they are 180 calories per serving--which means I have been skipping eating other things (things that are good for me) to eat 600 calories worth of them this week.

When I found out they started making pretzel M & M's it is fairly safe to say I was elated. When I was younger I used to buy pretzels and 3 Musketeer's bars, take a bite of each and then wonder aloud why no one had ever made and marketed a similar product.

And now my dream has come true.

I am going to start going to the gym again this week. I am.

I have been passing the time during naptime looking up cheesy True Blood stuff on the internet, like character blogs and recaps...But I drew the line at going into the message boards. I have limits. Sort of.

I don't think I've loved a TV show this much since FRIENDS went off the air. It feels like an event to me every time it's on.

I have a confession to make. In the four years I have lived here I have never--not even once--cleaned the oven in my house.

And no, it is not a self-cleaning oven.

There I said it, although it won't surprise any of you who have been my roommates. I had to go out and buy oven cleaner yesterday because while I was gone it appears as though my dear husband was cooking something that spilled over a ridiculous amount of sauce on the bottom of the stove and filled the house with smoke two days ago as I was trying to cook dinner.

To be quite honest, I don't even know how to clean a gas oven and am mildly concerned about
a) the pilot light being on and
b) the fumes from the Easy Off affecting my child, dogs, and cat.


I have set the can out in plain view on the kitchen counter so my husband will notice it (and he doesn't read my blog). I think it may end up somewhat like the shower cleaning standoff of 2010 (which I lost by the way--and I'm pretty sure my husband didn't even notice was happening).

I'm a good wife, eh? I did clean up the dog poop in the kennel yesterday so I gave myself a big pat on the back for that.

The other battle I am currently embroiled in is The Bedtime Battle, which may also be referred to as Please, Please, Please just sleep alone my angel faced child...sleep damn it! I'm not sure it is advisable to take on toilet training this week as well, especially since my dear child has had a bad case of diarrhea for the last three days.

I'm still considering it.

Like I told the doctor when we went in for Holden's 2 year appointment: The lack of toilet training has less to do with Holden's readiness than it does to do with Mommy's lack of initiative.

My dear son is napping (alone) at the moment and I am sitting my cool, quiet bedroom (brand new a/c and heating system!), and considering taking a nap myself or reading a Sookie Stackhouse book.

It's good to be home.

Choo! Choo!

It looks like Holden was backing Nate up in a bar fight and the other guys won. (Nate: obvious injuries; Holden: fat lip from falling off a chair.)

Carson City train museum...

only caused a short temper tantrum while leaving--and then Holden fell asleep in his carseat on the way back to Nate's house. Overall totally worth the $4 we paid for the train ride and hour and a half inside the museum.

Too tired to write more. Going to watch The Next Food Network Star instead.

I am staying at my brother's house sitting alone on his huge leather sectional and watching The Grand Ole Opry--which reminds me--when I was a child staying at my grandparent's house on the weekends they used to watch The Statler Brothers every Saturday night.

And sometimes I would get to stay up and watch Nick at Nite. We didn't have cable when I was younger so to me, this was a major treat. Although now it's hard to believe that watching I dream of Jeannie was a treat. But even now when I scroll through my hundreds of channels and see that show on--I always turn it on...if only for a minute.

Okay, so I'm wondering to myself...at what age should a woman cut her hair shorter, stop wearing bikinis, and stop getting tattoos? I know the Baby boomer generation would like to believe you're never too old for these things, but my husband and I are kind of old souls and I think there should be proper rules for such things. I'm also big on manners--mostly handwritten thank-yous and such.
Which, by the way...did you know you aren't required to write thank yous for funeral gifts?
I actually still have some thank yous from my dad's funeral and some other stuff sitting on my counter I should really send. So if you are one of the overlooked thank yous...I apologize.


Okay, so what age? I tried on a two piece suit earlier this summer and decided that after two c-sections it's just not the best idea.

Too...lumpy.

All I can really say after a 7 hour flight from Omaha to Denver and a 2 hour flight from Denver to Reno...and taking care of a 2 year old for 72 hours alone (I know, how sad is it that I meltdown after only 72 hours?)...I am very tired.

I do have a theory that it is partly the altitude to blame, but I think it's mostly the two year old.

I'm feeling a little uninspired at the moment as far as blog-writing goes. I'm just enjoying seeing my older brother and sister-in-law and sitting on their shady deck in one of the best deck chairs ever, eating coconut cocadas (which I've never heard of before, but thinking of going to the store and buying enough to fill a huge box and sending it back to Nebraska) and trying to keep my kid from breaking things.

Just the last part takes up quite a bit of energy. The kid, not the cocadas.

Also, I walked into a gas station the other day--there is the possibility it may have been in a scarier area of town (after all, what is a tattoo shop if not in a run down building in a scary area of town? But don't worry, it was very clean.) and there were three guys sitting there playing slot machines.

In a gas station.

I mean really?

Who says, "Hey, I think I'm going to go get gas and play some slots."

But it was the middle of the day so I suspect they probably didn't have anywhere else to be...like at a job.

You'll grow out of it...someday

My new tattoo. It has been planned for years, just been looking for the right artist and finally found her at Apple Core Tattoo in Reno, NV.

Hibiscus meaning (these of course are different depending on the culture): Delicate beauty; short life; seize the opportunity; sunny summer; old royalty; gentle

and also...they are pretty :)

P.S. I keep spell checking the word "seize"...it doesn't look right to me but spell check says I'm right. But it is about 3 a.m. central time so maybe that explains it.

*Delayed posting* Actually written on June 30:

I have had s’mores for breakfast for the past 3 days. I have an angry, red sunburn on most of my body, save the part covered up by my boring brown one-piece bathing suit. The burn brings out my freckles and makes my bright blonde hair look even blonder against the red of my face. It’s the kind of burn you can’t even put makeup on—but it doesn’t bother me. I did the same thing two days before my wedding so I couldn’t wear makeup at my wedding.

Walking on the beach alone the third morning we were here I stopped to watch the ocean. I was looking for some great revelation or profound thought, but the rhythmic roll of the waves must have drowned it out.

My feet covered in sand and facing the blue-gray waves, I felt no change. No particular release of stress or happy feeling…and wonder what could possibly be wrong, on the beach in California. Maybe I’ve grown up in the past 5 years since the last time I was here. And in the way growing up does…it has dulled my senses a little bit.

I start thinking about my dad walking me down the beach on my wedding day, and the time I went to Universal Studios with my dad, stepmom, and stepbrother. I think about that day on the sailboat with Tony and his family, and the first Harbor cruise Tony and I went on—Valentine’s day 2004, I remember the first time my husband told me he loved me.

We drive by the Motel 6 I stayed at on I-78 the week after Tony and I got engaged in August of 2004.

We walk on the pier, on the beach, through the shops.

We sit on our patio, have caramel macchiatos at Starbucks, and fresh crablegs on the harbor. We consider buying a shirt that says I got crabs from my waitress at Crabby Joe’s. I even try a bite of oysters Rockefeller.

We watch the waves roll in and play in the surf—and both get so ridiculously burnt that we can’t even touch each other.

I’m thankful for my choice to be with my DH and my luck. I’m thankful for my son, who when I call to check on him tells me about his day in one word sentences,
“Skate.”
“Ice cream.”
“Bath.”

I can’t remember why I have a blog, as examining oneself is probably a futile pastime. I wonder about this while I’m on the beach—as thinking about things never makes me particularly happy, just makes me worry. But I think I get that from my grandma. The worry part.

You know most things about me now, but I didn’t tell you about the last miscarriage. The one in February--the one that makes me wonder if I’ll ever have another child. I think about that as I walk on the beach in the mornings while Tony is still sleeping, although there is nothing I can do about it.

I think about my dad and my brother and the blur of the last year.

I lie down on the bed next to my husband, in the quiet--thinking California is beautiful—this burn, this humidity making my hair curl, the salt, sand, the waves. Looking at my tan husband with those bright blue eyes; staying at a cottage on base and watching the Marines walk by in their desert cammis.

I like the order of this place, being on base.

But driving down the freeway the other day I turned to Tony and said,

“I remember now what I loved so much about this place. It was you.”

So...my brother broke his neck (C7 for inquiring medical minded people) this week. Surgery today. I don't even know what else to say, except at least he doesn't have any neurological damage.

I keep telling you I'm trying to be optimistic here.

Remember he has been through mostly the same things I have, but also has many more of the "top stressors" on the list. Please be thinking of him and praying for him (and SIL), as it is very painful and he will be off work for at least 4 weeks recovering from surgery. Probably longer.

At this point in my life when I hear something bad...all I can do is shake my head. I don't even have anything to say anymore, really. You've probably heard it all.

"Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes."

"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself."
~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery

Title qote is by Gloria Naylor

I do not like them, Sam-I-am!

I have been reading Green Eggs and Ham for the last 4 days straight. Holden realized that there is a train in the book and now calls it the train book.

I really don’t like Dr. Seuss books.

Might I suggest that the writing in the books is somewhat boring and the pictures are downright creepy.


But above all, it’s the rhymes that bother me.

Oh, the rhymes!


We all count on a certain level of predictability in our lives. It is comforting and feels safe. Fear of change may be one of the strongest emotions I have seen in people (including myself).


I have seen it while working in hospitals and nursing homes, seeing my own family change, and have gone through painful and difficult transformations in my personal life (hard to believe I have any that you don’t already know, but of course I do).


But at the end of it all I believe there is a bigger picture being painted—I like to think of it as impressionist style…when you are up close it seems a little muddy and not very pretty.


But when you stand back…breathtaking.



Perhaps the most frustrating thing about reading Green Eggs and Ham with a 2 year old is that it runs as a never-ending loop. He loves the train in the book so much that we get to the end (with no train) and he starts wanting me to read it again.
So he (we) never learn the real lesson of the book.

“Say!
I like green eggs and ham!
I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!
And I would eat them in a boat,
And I would eat them with a goat . . .
And I will eat them in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a car. And in a tree.
They are so good, so good, you see!
So I will eat them in a box.
And I will eat them with a fox.
And I will eat them in a house.
And I will eat them with a mouse.
And I will eat them here and there.
Say! I will eat them ANYWHERE!”

I'm tired. That is all I can think, and therefore all I can write. My dear husband has been gone every day and night this week for assorted reasons. Meaning I have been taking care of a two year old who suddenly decided he doesn't nap anymore.

Nor does he sleep at night, by the way (never has really).

I've always heard if you don't have anything positive to say, don't say anything at all. That doesn't mean I have always followed that little gem of wisdom, but I'm trying here people.



And there is your explanation for the silence on my blog this week.

I so wish I could get my camera working so you could see my garden gnome standing watch over a patch of dirt in the middle of my yard. Even as the owner of the house it seems strange to have a gnome standing in the middle of a yard. It is beyond quirky, but truthfully the only way to keep the birds away from my grass seed.

Little garden gnomes and children look deceptively similar.

I also wish the camera was working so I could have shown you earlier this week when Holden took his toy train and made it face the time-out corner and told me the train was in time-out.

Then he took his swim(ming?) trunks with Thomas the train on the front and laid them over the top of the train that was already in time out so as to also put the screen printed train in time-out.

Today my dear son himself went to time out for playing with the wall outlet (which he hasn't done for months and just started again a few days ago), sat there for a minute and then said,

"Sorry Mommy. Sorry Mommy." (He almost always does this) So I told him to come over to me,

"Why are you sorry Holden?"

He shook his head, "Zhishen, Zhishen." (I wasn't listening.)

While you may think I would be happy about this little interlude, I was dismayed because now my dear son uses this as his umbrella response.

Fortunately for him, it does usually apply to the situation.

Someone should have told me that having a two year old was so much work. I do vaguely remember someone saying something once, but really.

Really.






Guess what I did this morning? Stopped my Netflix subscription and subscribed to dish network HBO because the new season of True Blood starts tonight.

MFEO

It's my anniversary today. Or more specifically, our anniversary today. My dear husband didn't bring me flowers when he walked through the door today.

He turned on the Nebraska/Big 10 press conference.

We didn't buy each other gifts either (the trip to San Diego) and for our big 5 year anniversary tonight I'm considering asking him to help me clean the basement and garage.

Since I mentioned the lack of flowers I should also mention that I didn't make him dinner, didn't clean the house either. Holden took no nap today (thus the mess), and I ate two pieces of coconut cream pie for dinner and he ate nothing. He is trying to win a bet and has to lose like 8 lbs. by next week.

We're so healthy.

I read an article the other day about marriage and divorce and the author said something about how if a woman says her husband his her best friend, then the author automatically thinks she has no friends.

I guess I am guilty of that, because after 7 years together, there isn't anyone I would rather spend time with than my husband, and there isn't anyone who knows me better.

Or who would tolerate me in such large doses.

The other day he was lounging on the couch, Holden was sitting in his high chair and Handy Manny was on TV.

I walked into the room and said,

"I think Handy Manny and the girl who owns the hardware store in Sheetrock Hills are having sex. Did you notice she never makes him pay for anything when he comes in?"

My dear husband didn't even laugh. He deadpanned,

"They aren't having sex, I'm pretty sure they live in a socialist society and that is why no one ever has to pay for anything. No one ever pays Manny to fix things either."



Made for each other.

I bought my son a small box set of railroad tracks today to go with the self-propelled engine he already has chugging across the floor most days. When I got home and set it up for him I realized the set I bought is only partial. Which means it looks like three sides of a rounded square with one side missing, rendering the mini-train unable to make a full loop.

As I sit here and watch my dear son race from side to side trying to keep the train from derailing on each end of the track and turning it the opposite direction, I identify with his struggle. That is how I feel most days. Like I'm running maniacally trying to keep things from derailing.

Of course I'm aware that everything won't go wrong if I stop working so hard. Although still slightly narcissistic, I do have a good understanding of my effect (and lack of effect) on certain things.

But when I stop and rest for a little while, and say...watch a four year old episode of Oprah in a house with no working air-conditioning, with a looming 90 degree day tomorrow and about 16 loads of laundry sitting at the bottom of the basement stairs (which by the way smells like dog pee and needs to be cleaned but I'm too debilitated by my knee to do the up and down work of cleaning the basement) , and a child and three dogs and a cat who all really really need some attention, and a test and presentation tomorrow that I have not prepared for...I really begin to wonder if it is possible to get a true vacation once you become a mother and wife.

I know, you think I'm being too dramatic. Just go to Wal-Mart and buy your kid the damn $10 kit to finish the train tracks, you say. Call the A/C guy and have the $4000 system installed on an easy payment plan. It's not that hard to do laundry, and instead of resting on the weekend, clean your basement. Also, you can go to the pool with your kid in the afternoon, take your dogs on a walk, and then spend all night studying. None of it sounds all that difficult, really, when you put it that way.

I started a new migraine medication that is intermittently making me feel wonderful (no headaches!) and like a zombie (I keep leaving the bathroom sink running--odd.). It's only the third day so I haven't decided yet whether the good effects outweigh the strange ones. (Feeling stoned. All day.)

By the way, I turned Oprah off. Going to do laundry.

And book a hotel for our San Diego trip. ;)