Coming Home

 

Yesterday I picked Waylon up from school like I do most days recently. It’s become one of my favorite daily activities, I enjoy the calmness of just waiting in the car rider line, it makes me smile to see all the children tumble out of the building at the same time, each with their own little expressions, uniform and bookbag slight differences to mark their individuality, and their excited, sullen, focused, or completely un-focused demeanor. Hearing “Waylon!” being called and all the sudden he pops up with a smile and rushes into the backseat as if shot out of a cannon, words unleashed with velocity while I am trying to navigate exiting the line, making sure he’s seated and belted, and welcoming him to the ride home in a moment of chaos.

We’ll talk about school “How was today? Great, good, okay, or bad?” He’s thoughtful and then states I need to make a Very Good category as well because it was almost great but better than good and that most days are Very Good. We talk about his lunch, most days he says he does not remember but with slight prodding he’s able to describe it in detail and will let me know what he chose not to eat but hardly ever complains about his food choices. Did anything funny happen? Did anyone get in trouble? Usually no. Not since the infamous Pants Falling Down on one his classmate that amazingly happened not once but twice two days in a row, does anything extraordinary happen.

 As we were crossing one of the bridges on the road coming home, Waylon commented on the boats in the water and all that was below. I mentioned to him the thought I’ve had countless times since moving to Savannah – the thought that I LIVE at this place where people use their time and money simply to visit, that this is my home and my children’s home, is truly amazing. I never wanted any of the kids to take it for granted and I’ve mentioned it to them all at some point although I’m sure my vocal musings often go un-noticed, just the proverbial “wah wah wah” Charlie brown background noise of someone speaking whose words do not matter. However, Waylon seemed thoughtful about this, so I continued on.

“When I was a little girl, I used to come here to Savannah sometimes and visit my Granny, Granny Faith,”

“Her name was Faith? Like Faith! Like your daughter Faith!”

“Yep, I loved my Granny sooo much that I named my little girl the same name! I loved visiting her and coming to her town and loved visiting here for so many years that I used to think what if I lived here one day”

“And then you did”

Smiling ,“yes I did! And because I did, my kids moved here, and because I lived here then you were born here and now this is your town, and aren’t you so lucky to live here?”

I glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror, a little boy in a puffy jacket that seems too bulky for his small frame, his brown hair slightly messy above his big blue eyes watching out the window at the trees, buildings, island life that we were passing by, with a tiny uplift at the corner of his lips before he said “yeah” in his little sometimes gravelly tone with just a hint of wonder and appreciation.

Sometimes I wish the car ride was just a little bit longer.

Starting Again

I am on a health kick. Or shall I say, a healthier kick. I know, I know, shock! A new year so a new fitness outlook! Actually, for Jeff and me it was the result of several weeks of holiday eating and laziness that eventually made us feel like blah slugs. It was not only the holidays but a trip to Gatlinburg, just he and I, that we really enjoyed, but we also over-indulged the entire time. I mean, we chose where to eat one night by which restaurant would serve fried pickles. I won’t say which one of us requested that. Ahem.

So, once the last party was had and the last meal based on cheesy/buttery appetizers was eaten, we Got Serious. Now, we have Gotten Serious many, many times before but I feel a little different this time. One reason is that we are not trying to suddenly get fit before an event, like when we suddenly took up running before Warrior Dash. I’m not trying to lose weight for a vacation, I don’t have a timeline. I’ve been on the treadmill every day now, for at least 30 minutes. I’ve started a few exercises that I do every other day like pushups, crunches, lunges . . . things that don’t take any equipment and I can do while watching t.v. or listening to music. This little set of exercises takes maybe 10 – 15 minutes. I’ve started off super small, I can barely do anything I’m so out of shape, but I’ve noticed a difference already. I can do more pushups. I can do more lunges. I can go faster and further on the treadmill. I have more energy. I don’t feel like the laziest person on the planet anymore. This all feels fabulous and I do NOT want to pause the momentum.

I don’t know if I’m necessarily eating much better, but I am awful aware of what I’m eating. I have an app on my phone that is a calorie counter sort of thing, and after a few days of logging what I eat it has made me super aware of portions and how much I can allot myself for the rest of the day. This means a bunch of little changes, like less creamer in my coffee (I never realized how many calories I was drinking every morning), eating just a sandwich without any sides, not snacking constantly throughout the day. I know that there are many more changes to be made, but I’m all about going slowly with food changes. I’ve found that going hardcore all of the sudden makes me binge later. I know that I’ve got to start considering how much caffeine I’m drinking but, again, I will address that at a later time. Caffeine is my best friend on the mornings that I have to wake up at 4:00 a.m. to spend the day at the hospital.

One of the hard things for me is realizing that I’ve been down this road before, lost the weight, after two pregnancies, and now it is so much harder on every level. It’s harder to find the time, what with two kids and a full time school schedule and a husband who is out of town for a good portion of the week. It’s harder with the kids being older, and that’s what I have to keep reminding myself; when I lost all the weight before, the kids were eating baby food and such. Now, we have snack foods, foods for lunches, casseroles made with lots of calories. I’m not going to put the kids on a diet just because I’m on one. I realize that children need to eat well and have healthy snacks and all, but I want to have cookies in the house for goodness sake. I’d like Faith to be able to take chips to school for lunch once in awhile instead of veggie crisp sticks. Also, the kids are such picky eaters that if I have to get them to eat a wider variety of food by baking it in a casserole containing butter and cheese and bread, then that is exactly what I’m going to do. My kids are on the skinny side anyway, and the extra calories won’t hurt them, but it does hurt me and I have to learn to not indulge in their foods. Which means making different meals for me a lot of the time, which I don’t like.

Another thing I’ve realized is how much time I spend sitting down since starting back to school. True, when I’m at the hospital I’m on my feet all day, but when I’m home I’m just sitting. Constantly. School requires such an insane amount of reading so I spend hours and hours just reading textbooks, not moving much at all in the process. So the 30 minutes on the treadmill is just adding an activity level that most people probably have in just daily life. I should probably spend even more time on the treadmill, but I need that time for school . . . and kids . . . and making meals, doing laundry, washing dishes, sweeping the floor, sleeping, etc.

So, it continues to be a work in progress, and a slow progression it is. I lost three pounds and somehow mysteriously put them back on despite my daily exercise and calorie restriction. I don’t understand it, but I’m not going to let it deter me. I have a need for instant gratification and I know that it will be a long time before I can actually have the scale reflect my efforts and a while yet before I can button my pants more easily. But, ah, it feels so nice to be working towards it.

School, kids, hair, pants, study

Time has been traveling at WARP SPEED. I mean, it was summer, and all was well, and I got some sun, and I didn’t lose all the weight I wanted to but I was running, so hey! That was cool. Then school started for Faith, and for me, and Jeff continued his crazy duel lifestyle of two jobs on different sides of the state. At that point I really became obsessed with the fall. Such as continuously fretting about it, and thinking how will I be able to do it? How can I possibly do it all?

Now, it is almost over, this crazy fall semester of woe. Amazingly, I have done it (almost). I just have finals left to consume my worries, and a few miscellaneous papers to turn in. I feel like there should be a giant board hanging somewhere that I should go check off a part of my life. OB/Pediatrics rotation – CHECK!

:::

Doesn’t it make you feel great when someone else complements your kid? That might be one of my favorite things ever. I really love getting complements myself, because I’m like that and I should be ashamed to admit it, but whatever, it’s true. Even better though to get complements on your kids, I find. Anyway, we were at Faith’s school for a Thanksgiving thing and her teacher came over and told us how sweet and smart Faith was, and just how especially sweet of a child she is and how she wants her own daughter to be as sweet as Faith, and so on. I might have visibly puffed with pride, I can’t say. Jeff and I felt like parents of the year after that so we came home and ate hot dogs and chocolate. Parents of the year, indeed.

:::

I have given up summer dirty blonde and instead have gone fall red. Only at first I went subtle reddish brown, but then decided to pump up the brightness so I got one of those semi-permanent hair dyes and . . . it is bright. Like the little mermaid. AND I have to go to this professional thingy with my parents and sister tomorrow, so, I don’t know. I feel a little silly. But dramatic! So yes, there’s that.

:::

I have fallen off the health wagon. I have fallen off and it ran over me. Then it rolled down a hill and crashed into a house and caught on fire. I am fitting into my jeans, but it ain’t pretty. A smart person would just suck it up (or suck it in) and go and just buy a bigger size. Or the size up from that. Rather, I enjoy shimmying into my jeans and then letting them almost cut me in half throughout the day. I do feel like there is a legitimate reason for the weight gain, and I can happily blame that on school. It makes me feel much better when all the women start venting about their weight gain so I don’t feel so alone. Not only is stress a factor, but also the insane amount of hours studying. Just sitting . . . and studying. I have almost worn holes into my couch by sitting and reading textbooks for hours and hours on end. So little to no activity plus stress eating has resulted in me feeling quite awful about myself. It is a goal that I acknowledge and plan to attack with enthusiasm. Soon.

:::

I started a bible study. It has moved mountains and shaken the earth for me. I know, I know, I know. But truly! More to come on this.

Children

Well. Well well well.

I'm not even sure what the subject was that I last chose to write here about. Something about extreme catching up or the like. Why mess with the process, then?

So James is now four and Faith is six. This all happened very recently. It's been an exciting whirl of birthday banners and cupcakes and two cakes and favorite dinners and presents and presents and so many new toys that is seems like they've magically multiplied and now what on earth will they get for Christmas, also, too many toys in this house. So we are going to weed out the old and/or forgotten and less played with and donate.

James has been . . . hmm, how do I say this like a loving parent? Testing my nerves? Making me yell more than one ought? Driving me out of my head and making any ounce of patience I owned zip right out of my body? Something along those lines. He is still very loving and sweet and offers unlimited amounts of hugs and kisses, loves to "give me love" (cuddling) and can be very sweet and easy-going. However, both of my children seem to possess another, darker, side of their personality. His is maniacal. He quickly crosses over to the out-of-control side and then it is madness to try and get him back. He challenges me a lot more now and I'm getting to a point that I never had to worry about with Faith. What now? is a question I ask myself often. What works? Time-out? Taking things away? Threats uttered between clenched teeth? I'll figure it all out soon.

All of these things aside, he is a very enjoyable little boy. He cracks Jeff and I up with his little own little quirks and manners of speech. He has started adding extra 'r''s to things, such as 'put'. "I'm just going to purt this over there!" and Jeff and I are hoping he doesn't grow out of it too soon. It always makes us smile.

Faith is doing absolutely wonderful in kindergarten and it still amazes me when we drive up to the big elementary school that she actually belongs in this gigantic place. It used to fill me with worry, but oh how quickly things change. Such as the bus. In the beginning Faith wanted to ride the bus and I thought, never! Why on earth ride the bus when we live so close and I'm home often around that time and why let a stranger drive her around with no seat belt AAAGHH NO! But then I discovered the nightmare of the car-rider line. In short, you get to school thirty minutes before school is out, wait forever, eventually turn your car off because you are not moving, then they rush the children to their different cars, and I'm frantically trying to reach behind me and help Faith get her seat belt buckled but feel the need to just drive already and THEN James has surely fallen asleep because why wouldn't he? Then we get home and he is cranky and despairing because of being awoken from him impromptu nap. It was about a week or so of this before I started realizing that the school bus pulled down our road exactly at the same time I did, every day. So I could do the car-rider thing OR just stay at home and Faith would be home at the same time no matter what. Listen, I don't have smarts for nothing is what I'm saying.

She's making friends and learning so much, much more than I remember being in kindergarten curriculum before. She is reading (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and writing (sometimes it uses some imagination to interpret, but still) and I am constantly amazed by the how quickly it all happens.

Not long ago, we sat down to watch some videos we made of the kids several years ago . . . Faith was only two and James was just starting to crawl, and it just sort of slapped me in the face and made me tear up. They were that little and now they aren't and I'll never have them that little again and it seems like forever ago - like different children that we somehow traded in for these older ones - and then in the same moment it feels like yesterday, I can see James scooting up to the legs of my chair like it still happens just that way and it all floods me with emotion. Not only are those moments gone, but the time I have now will also be quickly gone.

In other words, slow down, time! Also, it made me want another baby. Yes, truly it did, but Jeff says no.

We do have a new cat though, which Jeff for some strange reason thinks replaces a new baby, but we are all happy. Faith named her Lucy but we all call her kittyboots, because that's just how we do. She is a diluted calico color and is a very sweet and loving cat that lets the children tote her around. Faith even came down once with the cat in a dress and a pink and purple pearl necklace on. The cat was just purring away. So, good family cat. Also, she's killing the mice that get into the garage so wooohooo! Good investment.

So all is well (and chaotic) and happy (and maddening) and just as it should be.

Bad Start

Man.

So, I've started a new semester in nursing school and I've had several orientations that all last several hours long and SAY they are going to go over this and that, but really just spend the whole day talking about how difficult this next year is going to be. At times, I wondered if they were using some sort of reverse psychology to inspire us or something, but it just kept getting more depressing and then there were even moments where they told us to "Get more responsible" and we haven't even had the chance to be IRRESPONSIBLE yet. It was sort of depressing and not nearly as exciting as the blindly happy and optimistic orientations the first year had been.

I'm starting clinicals in Atlanta and I live in north Georgia. That means a whole bunch of driving. Which is distressing for many reasons, but the most for me is the whole getting lost thing. Because I do. Get lost that is. Often. Even with GPS. There is no hope for my cause, I have just learned to live with it and mostly it is never a problem, except when you have to be in Atlanta at 6:30 in the morning and you live about 65 miles away.

Yesterday, I woke up at 4:00, drank some coffee, put on a wee bit of makeup and left with plenty of time for traffic (which doesn't really exist that early, who knew?) and getting lost time. I didn't get (very) lost on the way to the first location and all was good and well. Yay, I thought to myself, my troubles are over. But no. Then they announced that we were to go to another location in Atlanta and it only took 20 minutes to get there and we were to have lunch on the way and had an hour before we were to arrive. We would have to wait on everyone to get there to begin, so if we are the last one to show up then everyone will be waiting and angry and watching that person.

That was all that was needed to get my anxiety into full swing. Not only do I have direction anxiety, but I HATE being the last person to walk into the room and everyone look at me. Ugh. I feel chills now just thinking about it.

So, I thought, alright, all is well. I have the address, I will put it in GPS, I have a whole hour to get there. All will be fine.

I started walking towards the lobby and got confused already. Where did I park? Oh, I will follow the other students. Then I hear them saying that they parked in the visitors parking and I had parked in the staff parking. So I walked back trying to find a friendly face to walk out with and there was no one to be found. To make an entirely too long story shorter, suffice to say that I spent half an hour in a creepy parking deck looking for my car. That is not an exaggeration. I was on the wrong parking deck for 20 minutes before I found the scary looking tunnel that looked like it went to a dungeon that actually led to staff parking. Then I spent another ten minutes walking around frantically clicking the button on my key ring hoping to see my lights flicker.

By the time I found the car, I was literally sweating in my "professional attire" with my white lab coat. I tried to plug the address into GPS only for it to tell me that it didn't exist. I started to feel real tears threaten my eyeballs. Only half an hour! AND I had to catch a shuttle to the hospital from the new parking deck? I started driving around Atlanta getting mixed up before my phone argued with my GPS and offered the suggestion that perhaps the address was actually Decatur instead of Atlanta? So while I tried to plug the new information in I almost ran a red light and got killed. But I didn't. I'm still alive.

I got to the new parking deck and saw a bus start to head off so I ran uphill, in my "professional attire" with my damn white coat flapping in the breeze, in the middle of the damn day, in the Atlanta (Decatur) heat, to catch this bus and the driver opens up the door and I ask if it is shutting to the hospital and NO it is not and then I hear my name called and turn around and there are 25 other students sitting in a cool, glassed in room, watching me make a red-faced sweaty fool of myself.

So everyone ended up looking at me anyway. The end.

Summer Essay

What I have done on my summer vacation
by Jenny

I started off the summer going full blast, taking care of my lawn, buying flowers and even planting some of them, and then just shoving the dead ones out of the way. I got some sun and am now a "deep ivory" with tons of freckles, so I'm the darkest I've ever been. I am still pale, however, but less zombie colored. Jeff gave me a new chore, which is mowing the grass, and I have killed the lawnmower. I've kept the house clean, though.

I'm glad Jeff doesn't read this, because he may or may not agree with that last statement.

I took a statistics class, which was three and a half hours long in a sad little classroom at the college, which was depressing, but I got an A for my efforts. Then I took an online Spanish class, which was much more difficult than I anticipated. I got an A in there too, but I'm still not quite sure how. My fall semester starts back in less than two weeks, and I am (not) looking forward to it.

I spent some time in Savannah and the local beach, Tybee Island, and it was so much fun. The kids loved the sand and the water and it was the best two weeks of the summer. I woke up at six in the morning, drank a bottle of water, donned my shoes (and other appropriate wear, I assure you) and went running on the beach at sunrise. This is amazing to me still, because it is exactly the type of thing that I often dreamily state that I would like to do one day, but then I most certainly never do. On my first morning there, however, I was up early due to sleeping bad and I thought "why not?" and so I did and it was such an experience that I had to do it again, and again. Then I had that good trembly feeling in my legs and the inner feeling that I had already accomplished something so early in my day. Then it let me eat a lot without feeling too guilty about it.

The kids and I did crafts and strung beads, and now my house is littered with all sorts of bracelets and zipper pulls and keychains . . . and I can't throw them away. We made them! We must keep them!

Faith started swimming! Yes, it is true, which is an amazing feat in itself especially since at the beginning of the summer she had meltdowns of epic proportion, clinging to our necks, screaming in our ears, terrified of the water. One day I was in the pool alone with her and James, and was letting her rest her belly on my hand and held her arms length away from me and told her that I was going to let go, and would she swim to me? And she said yes, and then she did. I then whooped and hollered and smothered her with kisses. I was proud that she swam, of course, but more proud that she just went for it and that she trusted me. The next day she swam around the shallow end without her floaties, the day after that she swam with her face in the water. Another milestone, reached.

James has had no such luck, but he still swings wildly from a sweet boy with the most charming smile to an awful little demon who laughs when I lose my mind. I was debating putting him in daycare this fall to let him be around other people besides his family and warm him up to pre-school next fall, but we just don't have the money. All will be well with James, I predict. I just need to keep working to figure out how to discipline him in the most effective way. He is still the most snuggly thing in the world, and he's often my alarm clock in the mornings. He's an early riser, and he likes to come into my bedroom and scoot in beside me and hold my face so that when I open my eyes I'm looking into his blue, smiling ones. It's so sweet that I can't even be mad when he wakes me from my sons of anarchy seduction dreams.

Speaking of sons of anarchy, I am watching as much television as one can do, since I know that my fall time will be filled with school and children and not much else. Since mad men has come on netflix I haven't been doing much else and the kids say "Again?" when they hear the intro music. I can't help myself, kids!

Jeff has spent all summer working, and now is working 7 days a week, truly. That is sucktastic in so many ways. I keep reminding myself, it is all for something, it won't always be this way. That helps sometimes, other times I just want to shut myself up. We did go on an awesome date in Tybee that was like an epic food/drink crawl, followed up by a walk on the beach and then the pier. Jeff lost his sunglasses, and I kept marveling at how young everyone else is which means that I myself am aging, but I was more amused than sad, so it was an excellent date.

I haven't made it to church that much, which is awful and made more the awful that I think everyone else is thinking it is awful. Our pastor left for another church in another state and I really liked him. He was young, I liked his wife and his little family, he seemed on fire for what he was saying, and I always felt that the sermon that he preached was just what I needed to hear that day. So now, boo, I'm being a baby I guess. And feeling guilty for it.

Other times this summer I would think that I needed to blog and record some of these memories going down here, but I just didn't get to it. Lazy fingers.

What else? Let's see, food, television, lazy, school, kids, books . . . I think that just about covers everything.

For the next week and a half, I'm going to get my mad men on, eat some good comfort food, and relish in the lounging around because when my fall semester starts it's going to be No Joke.

Catchup

It's . . . wait . . .May? Like, toward the END of May? Huh.

Instead of struggling with the basic logistics of how that happens (such as time, sun revolutions, calendars, and the like) I will just instead declare that I am indeed done with the first year of nursing school. Done! With an A! It's true. I worked hard for it and those around me can tell. I received two text messages from friends inquiring as to what it was that they did exactly to make me mad enough to have nothing to do with them. I have tried explaining that no, my school had taken over my life. My time, for sure, and my thoughts when I wasn't dedicating my tasks at hand to school related projects. I always felt that I had something more to do, and that feeling hung like a dismal cloud over my head all year long. It's still there, it much lesser and slightly brighter form, since I am still taking some lighter summer classes (if one can call statistics lighter) and have some various nursing school tasks to tidy up before fall semester begins. One more year and I will have graduated and hopefully already have a job in place. I hope, I pray, that this next year flies by school-wise, but crawls along when it comes to my family and friends. Odd, that time thing.

Jeff is working diligently to pursue another career entirely, and I am supportive because it would mean a future that involves evenings spent together as a family. His night shift is horrible and I hate how our time together is so limited. Hard work on his part, hard work on mine, and hopefully a brighter future.

Faith has graduated pre-school, as they do apparently, which is cute/strange, but I got some really adorable pictures of her in a cap and gown so I'm behind this nonsense. What I am loving most of all is that the mornings are no longer a rush of waking, breakfast eating, sock-finding madness. We didn't even set the alarm this morning! That right there is one of the qualifiers of a "good-life" to me. Absence of alarms. The drawback to Faith being at home all day is that she and James have so many more opportunities for attempted murder of each other. It will never cease to amaze me how happy they can be one moment, with their original ongoing games, an ever-evolving storyline of stuffed animals with their offspring, to switching over to the dark
side. Their fights are maddening, with few amounts of actual harm done despite their best attempts. I don't want to be the parent that yells, but I am honestly predicting a summer of raised voices. I'm down with the truth.

Oh! And! I did something fun and physical and I did the minimal amount of training (if one can call huffing and puffing on a treadmill for a couple of weeks training) AND I completed it! Warrior dash, it was, which is technically a race, though my group just did it for fun. I ran a 5K with obstacles thrown in, and I have been insanely proud of myself for the past couple of weeks. I mean, me, queen of the lazy, scaled a fifteen foot wall! It's true, I say, and it inspired me a bit. It made me want to actually train and try again but aim for a competitive time. So, yay, summer may mean some sweat and muscle too.

Aaaaand. That's all. Hullo, blogworld.

Chaos

Well then.

I feel as though I have been going and going and going, and now I am just stopping for a few savory minutes and shall type instead.

School has started again for the spring semester and it has taken over my life, as school often does. This semester is certainly more grueling than the last and all that is well since I’m making good grades again (OH YEAH) but they weren’t kidding, despite their polite laughter, in orientation when they warned us we would have no life. Jeff and I haven’t spent time with our little group of friends/family since New Year’s. This is true, and this is sad. If there isn’t a test to study for then there is a paper to write. It is rare when there is no school related workings needed to be worked, and we have a moment for other things.

Which leads me to the death of my aunt. She passed a couple of weeks ago and though it is sad, it is one of those deaths that is right and almost welcome. She was so miserable at the end, she told my mother that this wasn’t living it was existing, and I can only imagine what she had to go through. Though still, I imagined her when we went down there to her home and it was strange that she wasn’t sitting there and it’s all so strange still. My mother is staying with my uncle to keep his spirits up and manage the many projects they have going on down there. So that takes Jeff and I to Savannah frequently and we are planning on leaving early in the morning to head back down for a variety of work and chores. That is what family is for we tell them. That is what family is for, we have to remind ourselves.

Faith continues to be the perfect child and James constantly tests my patience and when he isn’t making me lose my mind he looks so cuddly and sweet and makes me spoil him truly rotten. He does it, not me.

Now the children are running around the couch that I’m sitting on playing some sort of horse/monkey hybrid. I wish I could harvest some of their energy in pill form.

Okay, now someone is about to get hurt. I can sense it.

Anyway. Kids. School. Savannah. House (ha! It is sometimes clean and sometimes not, but entirely livable). Exercise (cough.) and church/friends/family/hobbies. Bah. Writing that makes me realize I need to prioritize better or balance or something because that just ain’t right.

It's Even Being Called Snowpocalypse

I meant to write a post about Christmas. I truly did. It would have been about past Christmases, the magic of it all, the glee of opened presents and then a whole section devoted on all of the truly awesome things I received (it was A. LOT.) but that time has come and gone and now it is the middle of January.

I was also going to write an entire post on my New Year’s resolutions, and I still may because I like to fly by the seat of my pants like that, but I’m not going to do that right now.

Instead I shall write about how the south is covered in snow and how we just don’t know what to do with ourselves.

Now that we’re in the mountains, we’re seeing more snow than we used to when we lived a little bit further south around Atlanta, but we still only get a little snow occasionally, enough to stick for a handful of snowballs and the most wee snowman you ever did see, and then it melts fast away. This week, however, we are hit with what I’m assuming will be named The Great Blizzard of 2011 (akin to The Great Blizzard of ‘93, of which I possess fond memories). Schools have been closed all week, people are encouraged to stay home, there is a handful of crews for the entire state, roads like our backwoods country ones haven’t even been touched, and people are going out of their minds.

I, on the other hand, am loving it. I worry that my future self will have that debilitating fear of leaving the house since I have enjoyed being stuck inside of it for so long. Reading facebook, I’ve been amused by how quickly posts went from “Yay, no work and school!” to “Go away snow, I want out of my house!”. Here in our little happy home Jeff has kept an ongoing fire, I suppose to entertain his inner mountain man since our heat has worked just fine. We have eaten an extra meal a day, because why not? The kids lived in their flannel pajamas only changing in order to put on several layers of clothes for outdoor play, which involved crunching through the top layer of ice only to sink down into the deeper powdery stuff, and taking turns shoving each other on a Rubbermaid storage top down the hill in the backyard. I spent a good amount of time trying to see how large of a piece of ice I could break off just for giggles, and then stopped to question at what point I had lost reason. We watched an insane number of movies and played checkers and stood at the windows at night, looking of the reflection of the moon on all of the unbroken ice in the fields. It seemed like each day just stretched on and on, and it was marvelous.

Jeff went back to work tonight, but the kids and I will just be at home again tomorrow, enjoying this nice and needed little break from the outside world.

And now I have just written an entire post on the weather and put it on the internet.

Notice Housecleaning is Not On the List

Since I have last posted here I have:

• Turned 31, which is not spectacular in itself and I really didn’t care much about it except that the week following my birthday turned out to be sucktastic in various ways and I started wondering if 31 was to be a curse to me.

• Took care of Faith who has been battling an ongoing cold and a bout of pinkeye, and James who has had the same cold, a painful ear infection (which warranted a weekend trip to the emergency room). Also, James slipped and fell on our tile outside of the bathtub which has resulted in a huge, painful-looking bruise on his forehead. Oh, and my mother-in-law has organized grandkid Christmas pictures this weekend! I’m thinking of makeup over the bruise. . .

• Finished my fall semester and my final grade for the course is an A. Normally I’d be all whooping and hollering and feeble attempts at cartwheels, but I just feel satisfied and that, hell, I deserve that A. I worked hard for it and I would be sour and bitter with anything less.

• Started trying to enjoy my winter break, but the weather is too cold! (indulgent whine here)

• Decorated the house for Christmas, and I love it so much I don’t ever want to take any of the lights down.

• Attended Jeff’s holiday party with him. I was so excited for weeks because it was an excuse to dress up, since I live in jeans or scrubs and those things does not make one feel The Pretty. So the day came and I dressed in my short white and black dress with the bell sleeves, and my high black boots and I wore black hose so that I would not show too much skin and Jeff spiffed himself up and my mom loaned me her expensive black coat with the (faux) fur trim collar and off we went and I felt pretty snazzy if I say so myself. Upon entering I saw crowds of people in khakis and some jeans, sweaters and cardigan sets. An occasional dress or two here and there but they were of the older-woman-at-church variety. Well, didn’t I feel like the over dressed harlot.

• Become obsessed with Dexter, and the series has taken over my brain and life.

• Indulged in cheesecake, crackers with gourmet spreads, onion roll sandwiches, peppermint coffee, and other various foods. I need to get out of this house and start doing something besides eating before I won’t be able to fit through the doors anymore.

• Watched Thanksgiving come and quickly go. It was …eh. The kids ate biscuits and gravy and nothing else at my in-laws, and we didn’t even all sit together, and for my side of the family we were over at my sister’s for the food and then quickly over to my mom’s to get her Christmas stuff out of the attic. I mean, I like Thanksgiving and all, but when I was a kid it seems like I remember it being a Big Deal, and now it just seems like another dinner with the family.

• Gotten sick. As in right now. Once again I am reminded that the job of “mother” never gets a sick day, and it particularly sucks when your husband works night shift.

Five

And now I have a five year old. Her hair, which has never been cut, is not unlike Rapunzel’s. Long and golden and reaches her thighs. I meant to give her a haircut on her birthday, I really did, but I paused and in that moment I knew I would not. I will, of course, I’m not a freak, but she didn’t want to really, and neither did I. Just last week I was at a little fall festival at her school and when it was Faith’s turn to stand up and go get her cookie I heard a couple of mother’s gasp at the sight of her hair. It is her trademark, and so she will undoubtedly cut it short and dye it black when she’s a teenager, but for now I get to have my girl, peaches and gold, and long silky hair that curls at the ends.

Her freckles really came out this year in the sun and she has been developing her sense of humor. I worried for a moment that I was complimenting her too much because she started becoming matter-of-fact about how nice time spent with her must be, but I can’t help but to show love. With words, with hugs and kisses, she surely does not doubt how much I adore her. And while she is a cute child (as if I would say my own is not) she has a beautiful soul and a tender heart. I have tried to instill in her that it is much more important to be beautiful on the inside rather than the out, and so I have a sweet child and that is a blessing that I cannot describe.

She is intelligent, always has been and I’m sure always will be. She is imaginative and enjoys playing with someone or by herself, always creating story lines for her dolls and barbies. She has become much more interested in pregnancy and babies, often working a child on the way into one of the plots of her toys, and has told me that what she wants to do when she grows up is to have babies. And live with me. And I can help her take care of them, won’t that be fun?

She enjoys singing with her kid’s songs on cd, especially a church music for kids one that my mother-in-law had originally bought. She enjoys movies, and some shows, but more than anything likes other kids. She’s made friends with our neighbor’s kids and still struggles to find her “best” friend at school. She wants to help me all the time, and I try to let her as much as possible to see the satisfied look on her face. She says her prayers every night and enjoys reading with me. She is blunt and to the point when telling me something that I need to know and won’t hesitate to put her hands on her hips or shake a finger at me if I’m not doing as she thinks I should.

She is a true joy to be around. She is special, that one. I still thank God every day for her, my sweetheart, my very own strawberry blond, freckled little girl.

Three

My James is three years old today. While I know that I am supposed to say that I can’t believe it, and it is true that time has flown, it seems like there was no me or us before James. He is a powerhouse of personality, a key figure in our whole family and universe, it is hard to believe that he is ONLY three.

He’s always been such a boy, to the point of making me paranoid and ever-watchful, but he has gone from being rambunctious and rowdy to outright defiant and violent at times. Faith gets the brunt of this, mostly because she taunts him into action, and action is exactly what he provides. A swift kick, or a toy thrown at an impressive speed. My poor girl sported bruises on her school picture day because of Jamie’s inability to just calm on down.

On the flip side, the boy has charm. My father once said that he’s going to smile his way out of trouble all of his life and truer words have never been spoken. He already does it. James is in possession of one of the sweetest smiles I have ever witnessed in my life, the kind that lights up his whole face, the kind that lights up the whole room. I have gone to him, fuming and angry over something awful and deliberate that he has done and he has looked up at me, eyes twinkling and crinkling, and I have been disarmed by his smile, having to catch myself from smiling back. I will have to find a way around that smile, it will be my kryptonite.

Ever since he was old enough to have a preference over anything, he has loved trains. Perhaps a better word would be obsessed with trains. Of course Thomas the Train became a favorite and still is. There are trains and tracks littering my whole house. The trains were essential in potty training. The trains are his best friends. The trains go everywhere with us. In the past few months he has started broadening his horizons, enjoying cars and loving the movie Wall-E, but trains are still the elite of his likings.

I’m so relieved at his appetite that includes a willingness to try anything. His easygoing attitude about going here or there, no need for any sort of routine. His need to cuddle and be loved, hugged, and kissed all throughout the day. He is an affectionate boy, not stingy with touch, willing to give it to anyone who seems to be in need. He will climb onto my lap, look deep into my eyes, and just kiss my nose, my cheeks. I laugh and kiss his neck, savoring these moments, afraid that they will be gone too soon.

He is my heart, my three year old boy.

He taught me Nawlins and Spanglish too

This is such, SUCH, a bummer but I think I need to get this out.

I just found out that an old co-worker died. He died several months ago, but I found out about it by boredom, snooping around on the internet. I found his facebook page and instead of just his name, it was followed by “memorial page” and then after frantic googling I found his obituary, stating his death as being in March.

I’m just shocked right now. This man was not just a co-worker, but a friend of mine. I started working at a small construction company when I was barely twenty-one and he was about forty-five at the time, a small man with an ever-reddish nose and a permanent grin on his face. He was hilarious, and had one of those laughs that was just contagious, whenever you heard it you wanted to laugh too, even if you weren’t in on the joke. He was a nickname type of guy, he had one for everybody. Mine was “Woodstock” because he had an image of me, long-haired hippie chick, peaceful and free-spirited. Our entire office started calling each other by their nicknames and we even had an official nickname board which needed to be updated every so often.

Whenever I was distressed at work, he was always there with grounded guidance and he was one of my favorite things about that job. I loved seeing him come down the hallway and always couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He made my two years at that company immeasurably better.

He had a great love for music and we had many a long conversation about it. When I told him that Jeff played he was overjoyed and often sent home music or videos with me for Jeff to watch. He’d ask me every so often about Jeff, wondering if he was “still pickin’ and grinning”. He was from Louisiana, which oozed out of his voice and was a great sense of pride for him. I learned all about Mardi Gras from him, proper Mardi Gras, not just the partying (although he told me about that too).

I left that job one summer, after management shifted and things got to be unbearable for me. He pursued other avenues as well, for the same reasons. He kept in touch afterward and when I got married I made sure to send him an invitation. His R.S.V.P. card was the fastest one returned and at my reception he was waiting for me with a big hug and an even bigger grin. The last time I talked to him he said that I needed to go ahead and become a mama, and then time sped by on warp speed and I never talked to him again and it breaks my heart I wasn’t at his funeral.

He was a good man, with a wife that he loved very much and three children that are way too young to have lost a father.

I’m remembering good times Andy, and I hope to see you again someday.

Melancholy

Jeff and I took the kids camping this past weekend and it was The Awesome. We went to Stone Mountain which isn’t deep in the woods or anything that proper camping should be, but it’s so much fun for the kids. They went to the pumpkin festival, we watched a 4-D mini movie that I think may have traumatized James, we went on the sky lift that I know traumatized me (I had a “bad imagine” as Faith would say, about us all plummeting to our deaths. *shudder*), and we went on the train, we walked around the top of the mountain, we went to the old plantation houses and petted the farm animals. At night we roasted marshmallows and made smores.

It was the weekend that we’ve been looking forward to having with them for, I don’t know, forever. Just Jeff and I, and our children, all in one place, doing wholesome family type things. It was rather dreamy, actually, and not in a Stepford way because they were still screamy, terrifying children at times, but just . . . good. It felt good.

Then we came home and back to the grind. I washed my hair three times and it still smells like campfire smoke. The clothes are still in heaps in the laundry room, and I’m already behind in my nutrition class for the week. This is all okay, though. This is life, this is what happens, I don’t live in movie land where things behind the scenes get magically taken care of except for comic relief purposes. What really does get to me, however, is that real life settles back when Jeff starts his work week.

Having a husband that works nights SUCKS. There is no poetic way to put it, it just sucks. He’s on a different schedule than we are, he’s always tired. I feel guilty for waking him up at 11:00 a.m. because I know he’s exhausted and I feel like crap for the mornings he has to wake up at 7:30 for me to get to school. We both feel awful when we’ve squandered away the moments that we do get to share by bickering about some non-significant Thing. I get irritated sometimes, thinking that he could bathe the kids on his nights at home, or make their dinner, or play with them, or settle some argument since I do it by myself all the time. I immediately get angry at myself for the irritation thinking that while I’m home with the kids, he’s at work, in a shop, on his feet, at night, lonely, deciphering intricate blue prints, all to support us.

It’s not just hard on our marriage, it’s hard on our kids. Faith goes four and a half days without seeing her father. EVERY WEEK. I try to fill him in on the little things, but sometimes they get lost in translation. I feel so blessed, for all the things I have, and then I feel a little wistful, I suppose, wanting someone to share them with daily. I want us to be a family, to be whole, every night together.

Here’s wishing to a brighter future.

Random - Just to hear the keys go click

I spent the entire weekend studying for my first exam, which was today. It covered several huge chapters out of our main text, a couple dozen chapters out of our secondary text, three chapters of medical math, and four chapters of medical terminology. I must be learning something after all because after it was over I thought to myself “well, that wasn’t too bad”. Then I came home, changed into completely unflattering gauchos and a huge t-shirt, made myself an enormous burrito, and have tuned into mindless television shows and looked at silly things on the internet because MY BRAIN WANTS A BREAK.

:::

Jeff and I were planning our upcoming weekends and we have something planned for every weekend until the end of time. On one hand, yay, stuff to do! On the other, boo, whatever happened to lazy weekends where we stay in our pajamas and watch old 80’s movies? I don’t even know the last time we’ve done that. With Jeff working nights, weekends are the only time we have together as a whole family. It’s also the only time we can spend with his folks, or mine, or any of our friends. It’s the times when we do grocery shopping, or house projects. I hate that he has to work nights. It ruins everything. And makes me cranky. This post will start getting out of hand, so I should probably change the subject.

:::

Faith’s teacher brought her out to the car last week (which is new to me, this whole escort to and from the car thing. Just what are they trying to keep the parents from seeing inside?) and told me that Faith had had a good day, but was a little disappointed when no one else wanted to play pretend with her. She was stuffing animals and/or dolls up her shirt and pretending to be pregnant. I laughed and shook my head and tried to appear like a normal parent and informed the teacher that it’s been a big thing with her lately, playing “pregnant”. The teacher eyed me, probably trying to figure out if I were pregnant which would make more sense and so I made sure to tell her I didn’t know where it was coming from, and we went home. Where Faith continued to play pregnant, made her barbies be pregnant, and drew pictures of babies in bellies. So I decided to really blow her mind and showed her the video of her being born and she was FASCINATED. I asked her if she wanted me to have another baby and she said no, that she’ll just have one some day when she grows up a little bit and I could help her take care of it. I’m so proud of her. She wants to have a child, doesn’t care if she’s married, and she’ll make me take care of it. I must be doing something right in my child rearing duties!

Blessed

Not long ago Jeff and I were looking through old pictures on the computer, click click click and we were transported back two years and three. There we sat, mouths hanging open as we viewed our children back then. James, bald, wide gummy smile. Faith, short curls, baby-face. The videos are more extreme, tiny voices that are now loud. Of course, in a few short years I’ll think that these are the tiny voices (hard to imagine) and that time has again back-handed me and left me stunned.

Chubby cheeks are starting to narrow, and short legs are lengthening. Diapers are non-existent and temperaments are well in place. I can hardly lift Faith without a verbal exclamation and James is much more boy than baby. I watched the videos and looked at the pictures wanting so badly for another baby, another tiny thing to feed and hold and be a BABY, but I know that another would quickly grow out of “baby” and into “kid” in lightning time.

I’m trying to make it last. I’m trying to keep our old habits. I swaddle them in towels and hold them in front of the mirror after the bath, something I started with Faith when she was just a wee thing. I sing the morning songs, the patience songs. I cuddle and carry and use our own language whenever possible, transforming hand to “hammy” and flip-flops to “clip-clops” and they are moving on when I refuse to.

It is obvious that each stage is a new wonder, a new sense that I must hang on to this, this right now, and wish forever for the memories to stay clear and never leave my ever-evolving mind. They are wondrous and aren’t I the lucky one to get to experience this? How silly it feels sometimes to complain about this small thing or that inconvenience when I have the privilege to watch them be.

An Experience

I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. Something sad, I suppose. Old people, feeble-bodied and weak-minded, sitting listlessly around a bleak room, lonely and depressed. I figured they would all be sickly and incoherent. I’m not sure why I thought this way, but I suppose I had heard so many stories about the sadness of nursing homes from my in-laws that I expected the senior center I visited today to be the same.

It is part of the nursing program I’m in, a community service type of assignment. We spent some time with seniors today and we’ll go spend some time in an elementary school in a couple weeks. While I was looking forward to the elementary school (a little) I was sort of dreading today. So imagine my surprise, just ten minutes into my visit, when I thought to myself “this is awesome”.

The people I met were upbeat and energetic people. The woman I spent most of the day with, Wilma, was easily one of the most effervescent, witty, quick, charming people I’ve ever met. Her hands moved quickly with her crochet needle, her eyes easily picked up the mistake I made when she was trying to teach me, she had comebacks for every taunt thrown her way in record time. She is 86 years old. Her and another lady, who is 90 and proclaims that she is healthy as a horse, made easy jokes towards one of the only men at the center. They are both widowed but they don’t want “an old man”. Wilma was married for 57 years and her husband passed six years ago. She told me that they were very close and had he been alive she wouldn’t have been out at the center, but that it’s helped her a lot. It keeps her from looking at four walls all the time.

Wilma enjoyed me being her pet today and I didn’t want to leave her side even though the room was full of older people, all in their own groups, all full of hearty laughter. I laughed so much today that I felt my cheeks starting to hurt. Wilma reminded me of my grandmother, my father’s mother, who was quick like her, feisty, and would give those big, toothy, loud laughs when something amused her. I tried my hand at crocheting on a loom, and admired all of their handiwork, beautiful hats, scarves, blankets, afghans, quilts. All made with ancient hands and carefully stored away to be sold at a craft fair to raise money for the senior center. I told myself that I would be there and purchase Wilma’s Christmas quilt.

Every time my eyes met someone else’s I gave them a genuine smile and received one in return. Here were folks who had spent most of their lives, if not all, in North Georgia and spent their days at the same center with the same people and I could just feel a current shift by my presence. They were happy to see me. They wanted to tell me their stories, and hear mine. They were pleased to hear I was in nursing school and that I was a Christian. They were not stingy with common affection, touching my arm, patting my shoulder. They talked about the children at the local school where they sometimes go to read books with the first graders. They are proud of those children, praising their intelligence, as if they were their own. They would like Faith, I think, with her quiet manner and polite ways. They would like James, with his charming smile and his crinkly eyes.

It was time for me to go, it came by too quickly. I went to get my purse and had the director sign my paper saying that I had indeed spent time there, and as I walked back to Miss Wilma to say goodbye, I saw dismay in her eyes.

“Are you leaving, honey?” she asked.

“I am,” I replied with some sadness. “But I’d like to come back and see you again. May I?”

And she smiled and pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek, said that of course I could, and then told me goodbye and that she loved me.

Riding Down the River

Somehow, it is the last day of August. My summer, which was filled with endless good intentions, has ended. Faith is in school, I am in school, we are all newly adjusted to our fall schedule and all is well, but man, I kind of wish summer had lasted just a LITTLE bit longer. It just seems like we didn’t get to play enough.

It is wonderful, however, to be able to open the windows for the first time in months without feeling like we’re suffocating from the heat and humidity.

In one last summer hurrah, Jeff and I and some friends went down the river. In what might be the most redneck mode of free entertainment, we basically just sit on inner tubes and ride them down the Chattahoochee. What would be a ten minute drive on back roads that parallel the river is a five hour ride on tubes. We take coolers full of drinks and food, and shove them into their own tubes, which we tie onto ours and we just sit back and let the river take us down a little farther south. We always bump into rocks, cover ourselves with bruises, and occasionally flip over when we try to navigate little rapids. We have sometimes lost the contents of our coolers and almost always lose our sunglasses. When the river is down we have to scoot along the more shallow areas and when the river is up we fly along in a more fun and terrifying ride. We always try to cover ourselves with sunscreen but most of the time we end up getting burned anyway. We always straggle out of the river at the bridge where we end our ride, dragging our tubes behind us, soaking wet, red, sore, and dehydrated, usually missing some article of clothing that we went in with.

It is one of the most fun things we do all year.

We always get into the Chattahoochee up near where we live in Northeast Georgia, where the river is clean, long before where it gets near Atlanta and is . . . not so clean anymore. Once on the river we occasionally see kayakers going by, but most of the time we are all alone in our little group. We’ll see houses sometimes, high on the banks, cabins isolated from the rest of the world. It is quiet and peaceful and tranquil. It feels like it is some part of nature untouched from the rest of the world and it’s our luck to be able to enjoy it. It’s several hours of the kind of fun you have when you’re a kid, just a thrill to be moving fast with the sun on your face, laughing until your sides hurt. It just makes me feel alive.

Now, it’s nearly fall, and the river will quickly get cold. And another year until the next river ride.