In Search of Myself

*Sneeze*

Ok, so I spoke too soon about the allergy thing.  I'm in pain.  For those of you who don't know, on Wednesdays after work I pick Evie up from school, go to church, we have a piano lesson there, then I do baby-sitting/have dinner with whole church/babysitting again.  I've done the paid childcare on Wednesday nights for like 7 years now.  Jake stays with my mom all day and I don't see him until like 8 p.m. (which sucks, but it's extra money and just part of the weekly routine.)

Anyway, the person who usually does the children's choir after dinner (while I watch the toddlers/preschoolers) was gone, so we decided we would do a nature hike at a church member's house.  They asked if I could go with them to help supervise the kids, and I said "Sure, that'll be fun."  What part of NATURE HIKE did I not understand?  We were outside for over an hour, trudged through a narrow trail through TONS of trees, bushes, flowers, whatever.  Very pretty, yes.  Fun for the kids, yes.  But damn, by the end of the hike my nose and throat felt like they were COVERED in gook.  I took a lot of cute pictures of the kids and it was fun to hang out with the older ones when I'm usually just with the little ones . . . but even now my eyes itch and are watering, my nose itches and is stuffy and running at the same time, my throat hurts and tickles, my LUNGS hurt a little, and I have a headache.  Yeah, good times.  (Kate?  Let's say we drove EACH OTHER to the doctor's office and we can both get a demerol shot!  That may not help relieve my allergy issues, but at least I'd stop caring.  heh.)

Bossy-Butt

Dude, the Jake-man gets bossy when he's going potty.  He's pretty well dry and goes on the potty all day with my mom, then in the evenings with me he does so-so.  But he DOES poop on the potty every night (thank you, Lord!!!) and I hardly change any dirty diapers anymore.  (Please don't hate me, those of you who do.  Remember, I get next to no sleep at night, and that makes us even, right?  Except for Kelly, who deals with all of the above, but I think she's being declared a saint soon.  She does more than humanly possible on a daily basis.)  Anyway, when Jake is poopin', I usually sit on the floor in the hallway just outside the bathroom (this is when we're downstairs).  I usually read my latest scrappin' magazine while I sit there and wait.  Sometimes I'll get up and ask him if he's done.  If he's not, he says "Sit.  There.  Read." If I don't have a magazine he gets a little annoyed and points to the coffee table where I keep them and says "Book!  Read!"  (Isn't HE the one who is supposed to be reading during all this?  heh.) 

A few weeks ago after I'd been trying to get him to sleep for an hour and he was trying everything to get out of it, he sat up and said "Poop?  Potty?"  And dude, when he says that, it doesn't matter what time it is or that he might just be stalling, we get up and go.  So I sat him down, then I laid down on the floor, half in the bathroom and half in my bedroom (my head was in my bedroom.)  After a while, I sat up and said "Are you done?"  He looked at me, pointed to where I was laying, and said in a very stern voice "Lay down!"  It was SO funny.  And I was so tired, I didn't give him the "YOU don't tell ME what to do, I'm the MOMMY, I tell YOU what to do" lecture, I just laughed and laid back down.  I hope all that power doesn't go to his head.

Allergies

My seasonal allergies are making me crazy.  I used to take Zyrtec for allergies, but I stopped two years ago -- (a) because I think we over-medicate ourselves and I don't want to be 40 years old and on 6 prescriptions a day.  If I don't absolutely need it to live, I'm not taking it, and (b) dude, $20 a month for 1 prescription is $240 a year I can use for something else.  So I deal with the inconvenience and slight irritation of the dry, itchy, sneezy nose for a few months out of the year and I let it be.  It's only REALLY bad for a few weeks, just mildly annoying the rest of the time, which to me is totally worth having that extra $20 in my pocket.  (What the hell did people do BEFORE all the prescriptions?  They dealt with it.  Oh, and Vick's medicated nasal spray works wonders.  As do Puffs plus tissues.)

Anyway, I sneezed so hard a minute ago that a manager -- whose office is down the hallway and separated from me by two closed doors -- called me and said "Bless you."  I said "Thanks.  What do you need?"  He said "Nothing.  That was just a big sneeze, I thought I'd say Bless you."  Gee, thanks.

Phone Call

So I got a call on Sunday night from Monica.  Monica who has been my soul-sista friend for over half my life now.  Monica who is way out on the west coast and who I haven't seen in 5 years (6?). Monica who shared her small room with me for several weeks at the end of senior year because I couldn't deal with life at home.  Monica whose mother always made me cut the crap and be real, but did it so lovingly that I will never forget her.  Monica who has probably seen me at my worst more than anyone else in the world, but who still finds a way to love me anyway.  (This continues to amaze me, but I'm so thankful for it!)

When I picked up the phone, she said "You know, I was just about to leave a comment on your blog, and I was like 'this is stupid, I'm just going to call her.'"  And I'm so glad she did. 

I'm not really good at talking on the phone anymore.  I used to be.  I'm not sure what happened.  I zone out and I can't think of anything interesting to say and I get all self-conscious about it.  When Mo and I were in high school and would talk on the phone, we would get to a lull in the conversation, one of us would say "Do we have anything else to say?" and if the answer was no, then we'd say "Ok, then we'll talk later" and hang up.  Luckily, we don't do that anymore, because we would have said that about 20 seconds into the conversation -- I have so much to talk to her about, but getting it all from my mind to my mouth is complicated.  I'm glad we're good enough friends that we're comfortable with silence on the phone.  And it certainly didn't help that Lou wouldn't watch Jake so I was laying on my bed and Jake was jumping on it AND on me and being extremely goofy.  Monica got to hear me tell Jake "no" about 100 times.  But she also got to hear him giggle.  I guess that's a pretty accurate glimpse into my life, so it's all good.

What amazes me is that she said she loves my blog, and she loves the way I write and the things I have to say.  People, this is like hanging out at a golf course and Tiger Woods walking by and casually mentioning to you that you have a great swing.  Monica is an amazing writer.  I remember reading her stuff in high school and being blown away.  She's amazingly smart but in a cool way, a Maya Angelou kind of way, but incredibly humble about it -- for example: in high school the only reason she wasn't valedictorian (ok, one of them, we had 4) is because she got a B in Pottery.  Pottery, people!  But she had the guts to take a class that she couldn't guarantee an A in, because she wanted to learn.  I was too scared to take Advanced Grammar even though I REALLY needed it, because I was afraid it would blow my perfect 4 point.  I think that's pretty telling about our personalities.  Is it possible to have a friend crush on one of your oldest and dearest friends?  Because I think she is so cool -- and I'm FLOORED that she likes me so much, still after all these years.  I'm even more amazed that she likes the person I'm becoming and trying to be, and she focuses on that more than what a jerk I've been at points in our lives.  I think that's what you wish everyone would focus on.  And she gets it.

So Monkey, thank you for calling me, and keep calling me -- but leave comments, too.  Because we bloggers live and breathe for our comments!!!  Love you.  ;o)

Responsive Reading

One thing I love about my church is we don't just trudge along, saying the same old prayers, reciting the same old responsive readings.  Our worship services are thoughtful.  We are challenged to delve deeper, to think instead of conform, to search together for the answer to the question, what does God really ask of us?  This responsive reading really hit home with me:

Glorious God, your thoughts are not our thoughts,
nor are your ways our ways.
You look at the ugliest soul and see, still unstirred,
the wings of an angel.
     We scan the finest of our neighbors, anxious to find the flaws.
You see our lives in the context of eternity,
and make a time for waiting, for yearning,
for putting all things in proportion.
     We demand instant results;
     and look for tomorrow before savoring today.
Your thoughts are not our thoughts,
     Nor are your ways our ways.
Not to have our worst confirmed,
but to have our best liberated,
we pray for your grace and your pardon.
     Forgive in us what has gone wrong;
     Repair in us what is anxious and wasted;
     Reveal in us what is good.

A fun game

Jake LOVES my mom's backyard.  Whenever we talk about Nana's house, one of the first things he says is "outside?  yard?  play?"  We don't really play in OUR backyard, because there's not much to it, the ground can hardly be described as grass, and it's not fenced in.  Nana's yard, though, is the opposite of ours.  It's perfect.  Jake chases the dog (and the dog chases him), he helps mom plant flowers and veggies, he plays basketball, he plays on the swingset, he rides his hot-wheeler on the porch -- the kid has a good old time.  (And we are LOVING this new, warm, summer-like weather.  Next item on the shopping list is a kiddie pool.)  But what Jake REALLY likes is when I get out in the yard WITH him to play.  He actually will now say "Mama.  Mah-muh!  Play.  With me.  Yard.  Run.  Mama!"  And his favorite thing to do is start at the bottom left corner of the yard where Sadie's doghouse is, wait for me to say "Ready? Go!", then he takes off running and I have to run after him and catch him.  And when I DO catch him, he erupts into giggles, then stumbles back toward the starting point (stumbling because he's laughing so hard) and says "Gin?"  Dude, the kid is FAST, it's a heck of a workout.  But he loves it, and it IS fun (and dude, I NEED the workout), so we did a lot of that this weekend.

Dogwoods

The dogwood trees are a-bloomin' here in Tennessee.  They are SO pretty.  Every time I walk or drive by one, I just want to stop and stare.  This is a tree outside the school where my piano student Margie attends.  I was picking her up on Tuesday and after telling her I was there, I went back to my car and got my camera to take a few quick pictures.  She was embarassed (hey, she's 11, I can understand), but I just had to get this on camera.  The pink ones are what's really beautiful, but these white ones will have to do for now.

Happy Birthdays!

   . . . and also this, a little late (because we all know what a complete ditz I am.) 

Archiving Your Blog

Today's project was to archive my blog entries.  I pour so much of my heart into these entries (well, and ok sometimes it's just me being a smart-ass, but still), and in the back of my mind is the fear that one day TypePad will malfunction and EAT all my entries.  These entries are the story of my life -- good and bad, funny and not-so-funny.  I write about the stuff that I want to remember.  (And sometimes the stuff that I think you will think is funny.)  I don't want to lose a single word I've written -- I want Jake to be able to read all these entries someday and laugh.  Going through and saving my entries was actually fun -- I had forgotten that I even wrote a lot of things. 

Our memories are odd things (by memory, I mean the functional brain memory and the way it works), and unless we have a trigger for most things, they fade into obscurity within a day or two.  Even major events -- holidays, birthday parties, first days of school, etc -- sometimes will fail to imprint on our long-term memory because there is so much more competing for our attention and brain power.  BUT if you write about it or have pictures to look at, those triggers will help you remember the things you wanted to remember.  And that's a big part of why I blog (and scrapbook.)  That's why since 7th grade I've kept random journals on and off.  The months and years are already speeding up in my life (and I'm only 26!!!) and I hate to look back at another month or year and not have ANYTHING significant to stick out at me. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just floating through life, getting from one moment to the next and just surviving because that's all I know how to do.  But then I look at my pictures and the words I've written and I remember specific moments and the bright spots in my life, and I know it's all about more than just getting by.  Life's not ideal every minute of the day, and sometimes we DO have to just plug away and do what it takes to get by (like spend 8 hours a day at work.  heh.)  But as long as we're having a few good moments every day -- moments that make us stop and think, moments that make us FEEL, moments that make us laugh, moments where we connect with people we love -- then we know this is all worth it.

Need help figuring out how to save your blog so you can enjoy it off-line?

Remembering

I started this job when I was almost 3 months pregnant.  A big part of my job is filing hundreds of accounts a month - so I spend a lot of quality time staring at a filing cabinet.  The funny thing is, every time I stand there putting the files away, I remember being pregnant.  Why?

Well, remember how Jake was almost 10 pounds when he was born?  (Dude, he was big.)  And I worked until the day before he was born -- my stomach was pretty far out there toward the end.  I remember the last few times I had to file the accounts, I was so pregnant I couldn't reach the file folders.  My stomach stuck too far out to stand there and reach over to file the bills.  I had to end up standing NEXT to the drawer and turning sideways, twisting a bit to get those papers filed.  I was determined to not have to ask for help and let my pregnancy get in the way of doing my job.  I must have looked absurd standing there, but I got it done.

And seriously, EVERY TIME I go to file stuff in the cabinets now, I remember that.  Those memories come rushing back and I remember being in that place in my life . . .  And it's a nice feeling.  Certainly a nice happy spot in the work day.

Although my absolute favorite work memory of being pregnant?  I sit at a desk behind a counter, and my pregnancy didn't show much in my face.  So when people walked in and asked something and I stood up and they saw my hugely pregnant belly -- the looks on their faces always made me laugh so hard.  That was totally fun.

What do YOU remember the most about being pregnant?