21 January 2007
20 January 2007
Pop Quiz . . .
Who might this sweet thang be?
Is it:
(a) Junior Miss Trailer Park 1979
(b) Little Miss Arkansas, 1979
(c) Yours truly, age 5 (almost 6)
Special thanks to my dear father (hi Dad!) for rescuing this photo from the trash heap.
And by the way, Dad, were you and mom BLIND back in the summer of 1979? Who lets their child go outside looking like this??
I will share that Katie got a good laugh at my expense. She said "Mom, what's wrong with your teeth? And why is your belly hanging out?"
Hah, hardy har har. Let's see how purty she is when she's six years old ;)
(by the way, the tooth had fallen out, it wasn't rotten. I know it's hard to tell from the context of the photo, but we did actually have decent dental care)
Is it:
(a) Junior Miss Trailer Park 1979
(b) Little Miss Arkansas, 1979
(c) Yours truly, age 5 (almost 6)
Special thanks to my dear father (hi Dad!) for rescuing this photo from the trash heap.
And by the way, Dad, were you and mom BLIND back in the summer of 1979? Who lets their child go outside looking like this??
I will share that Katie got a good laugh at my expense. She said "Mom, what's wrong with your teeth? And why is your belly hanging out?"
Hah, hardy har har. Let's see how purty she is when she's six years old ;)
(by the way, the tooth had fallen out, it wasn't rotten. I know it's hard to tell from the context of the photo, but we did actually have decent dental care)
19 January 2007
Shaved about 5 years off my life today. . .
This boy. Lord, please give me strength.
As we were leaving the house to meet Katie's bus, I stopped at the mailbox (which is right by the front door) to grab the mail. I opened the van door remotely so Jonathan could get in the van. I got the mail and turned to see him heading past the door, down the driveway. I yelled "STOP RIGHT NOW" and he turned, looked right at me, then turned back and kept on running down the driveway toward the street. Right into the path of a vehicle that I saw turning onto our street out of the corner of my eye. I dropped everything and sprinted down the driveway in no less than four steps to get him before he ran out into the street. In what can only be categorized as a complete synthesis of miracles, Jonathan stopped right as his little feet hit the asphalt, and a split second later I grabbed the hood of his coat, and the vehicle coming around the corner was driven by our neighbor Joyce, who saw him running down the driveway and slowed down to stop.
The feeling--the feeling of complete and total helplessness as the impending horror unfolded--was terrifying. He has never, ever pulled a stunt like that before. We had a nice little chat about running in the street. I am hopeful that he has learned his lesson.
I know I have certainly learned a lesson about trusting that he will do what he is told. He has always been such a compliant, sweet kiddo. His behavior the last two days has been out of character, so I know he is totally testing limits.
I'm definitely going to have to be pulling out my A game everyday with this one . . .
As we were leaving the house to meet Katie's bus, I stopped at the mailbox (which is right by the front door) to grab the mail. I opened the van door remotely so Jonathan could get in the van. I got the mail and turned to see him heading past the door, down the driveway. I yelled "STOP RIGHT NOW" and he turned, looked right at me, then turned back and kept on running down the driveway toward the street. Right into the path of a vehicle that I saw turning onto our street out of the corner of my eye. I dropped everything and sprinted down the driveway in no less than four steps to get him before he ran out into the street. In what can only be categorized as a complete synthesis of miracles, Jonathan stopped right as his little feet hit the asphalt, and a split second later I grabbed the hood of his coat, and the vehicle coming around the corner was driven by our neighbor Joyce, who saw him running down the driveway and slowed down to stop.
The feeling--the feeling of complete and total helplessness as the impending horror unfolded--was terrifying. He has never, ever pulled a stunt like that before. We had a nice little chat about running in the street. I am hopeful that he has learned his lesson.
I know I have certainly learned a lesson about trusting that he will do what he is told. He has always been such a compliant, sweet kiddo. His behavior the last two days has been out of character, so I know he is totally testing limits.
I'm definitely going to have to be pulling out my A game everyday with this one . . .
18 January 2007
I had forgotten how fun this was . . .
My sweet, adorable, agreeable baby boy has been replaced with an angry, defiant, LOUD, giggling little turd.
Ah yes, the terrible twos have arrived. We're at that oh-so-tender part of childhood where everything is drama and even the seemingly simplest of tasks turns into an ordeal reminiscent of the Bay of Pigs.
Right at this moment, transitioning seems to be the big issue, among others. Getting ready to leave, getting in the car, getting buckled into carseats, none of that has occurred without some altercation of some sort. Likewise for coming back home. It's just all drama.
This is a familiar place. Katie had difficulty with transitioining at this age. I recall how I longed for days ahead when just getting somewhere wouldn't be so physically and emotionally exhausting. We finally got there with her, but it took awhile. A LONG, long while.
Today the kids really needed to blow off some steam. It's been really cold and windy the last few days, so we have not been able to get outside at all. It was quite chilly today, but the wind had diminished, so I took them to this little playground near the house just to burn off some energy. They had a ball and from their wild, wide-eyed expressions, they really needed it. We were there about a half an hour when it started to rain/sleet/drizzle, and Mama had to pee really, really bad. So, unfortunately we had to go.
SMACKDOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jonathan was NOT happy that I was disrupting his outside time. I thought perhaps I could outsmart him by taking Katie to the car first and getting her buckled in, and then he would follow. Apparently he's clue to my little game and he just stood there in the middle of the playground and cried, not the usual "you're a meanie" sniffle, this was an "I'm pissed off, dammit!" full out, no holds barred wail. I said "Come on, Jon, it's time to go, let's get in the car!" And he totally snubbed me. He then turned around and ran towards the back of the playground. Unfortunately, at the back of the playground is a fence with a very large opening, and just beyond that fence is a parking lot to a very busy supermarket. I sprinted to him and he ran faster. I finally caught up with him, picked him up and he laughed and giggled, the same damn devlish laugh that his father does when he's especially pleased with himself for annoying the living shit out of me.
I finally get him in the car, and I damn near had to physically pin him down to get him buckled into his carseat. And he carried on. And on. And on. Katie, who by the way is the recipient of the 2004 World Tantrum Cup, commented how she could not understand why he was so angry, and said his screaming "made her ears loud." I took the opportunity to remind her that she did the same thing at that age, to which she looked at me like I had just told the biggest lie evah and was going straight to hell for it!
Sigh. Looks like I'll be having to dust off my old copy of John Rosemond's Making the Terrible Twos Terrific and study up on the exhausting yet adorable enigma that is the two year old.
Ah yes, the terrible twos have arrived. We're at that oh-so-tender part of childhood where everything is drama and even the seemingly simplest of tasks turns into an ordeal reminiscent of the Bay of Pigs.
Right at this moment, transitioning seems to be the big issue, among others. Getting ready to leave, getting in the car, getting buckled into carseats, none of that has occurred without some altercation of some sort. Likewise for coming back home. It's just all drama.
This is a familiar place. Katie had difficulty with transitioining at this age. I recall how I longed for days ahead when just getting somewhere wouldn't be so physically and emotionally exhausting. We finally got there with her, but it took awhile. A LONG, long while.
Today the kids really needed to blow off some steam. It's been really cold and windy the last few days, so we have not been able to get outside at all. It was quite chilly today, but the wind had diminished, so I took them to this little playground near the house just to burn off some energy. They had a ball and from their wild, wide-eyed expressions, they really needed it. We were there about a half an hour when it started to rain/sleet/drizzle, and Mama had to pee really, really bad. So, unfortunately we had to go.
SMACKDOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jonathan was NOT happy that I was disrupting his outside time. I thought perhaps I could outsmart him by taking Katie to the car first and getting her buckled in, and then he would follow. Apparently he's clue to my little game and he just stood there in the middle of the playground and cried, not the usual "you're a meanie" sniffle, this was an "I'm pissed off, dammit!" full out, no holds barred wail. I said "Come on, Jon, it's time to go, let's get in the car!" And he totally snubbed me. He then turned around and ran towards the back of the playground. Unfortunately, at the back of the playground is a fence with a very large opening, and just beyond that fence is a parking lot to a very busy supermarket. I sprinted to him and he ran faster. I finally caught up with him, picked him up and he laughed and giggled, the same damn devlish laugh that his father does when he's especially pleased with himself for annoying the living shit out of me.
I finally get him in the car, and I damn near had to physically pin him down to get him buckled into his carseat. And he carried on. And on. And on. Katie, who by the way is the recipient of the 2004 World Tantrum Cup, commented how she could not understand why he was so angry, and said his screaming "made her ears loud." I took the opportunity to remind her that she did the same thing at that age, to which she looked at me like I had just told the biggest lie evah and was going straight to hell for it!
Sigh. Looks like I'll be having to dust off my old copy of John Rosemond's Making the Terrible Twos Terrific and study up on the exhausting yet adorable enigma that is the two year old.
Okka? Ok? Oak?
As seen on our local craigslist:
Hmmmmmm......
Silver Bunk style Bed with desk and lounge chair built in underneath it. Also has okka colored dresser & entertainment center. Great shape.
Hmmmmmm......
17 January 2007
Someone should coordinate these ads a little better . . .
I saw this on another blog and did a double take ... Disregard the black text below the orange text and read from left to right...yikes!!!
16 January 2007
I hope they remember this when they're older. . .
. . . how I entertained them by doing the dance that Goofy does from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (the Mousekedance), and how they laughed until they couldn't breathe
Just in case you need a visual, click here, then click on "Hot Diggity Dog"
And yes, I have no shame when it comes to making my kids laugh. :0)
Just in case you need a visual, click here, then click on "Hot Diggity Dog"
And yes, I have no shame when it comes to making my kids laugh. :0)
Waving goodbye to the sailing ship . . .
I see so many families these days having more than the standard 2 kids. I come from a family of three, my husband a family of two boys. I always envisioned myself being the mother of three, but it didn’t quite work out like that. I had three pregnancies, the first ending in miscarriage at 9 weeks. It took us almost two years to conceive. Two months after that miscarriage, we became pregnant again, and that bean stuck. She’s now four going on five.
I can’t really recall how we arrived on two as our magic number. We somehow determined when I became pregnant with our second child that this was it for us. Whether we had a boy or girl, we were done. Finances did play a role, but a minimal one. I think the biggest factor was fear of being overrun or outnumbered, as silly as it sounds. My husband likes to put it in football terms: man to man coverage is always more effective than zone defense. I suppose one can rationalize it any way they see fit.
I am very content with the two beautiful, healthy, brilliant and funny children we have. I had a tubal ligation during our son’s c-section delivery, so the decision was finalized at that point. Still, I found myself asking my husband if he had any regrets about not going for a third. Without blinking an eyelash, he said “NO” and then went on to list his various reasons why—like being able to get a full night’s sleep at least five to six nights out of the week.
It occurred to me today while watching an episode of “Bringing Home Baby” that the whole pregnancy and childbirth journey is now behind me. That ship has sailed. All those days and weeks and hours spent reading every pregnancy and baby book, website; agonizing over which carseat, which stroller, which diaper pail--every little decision seemed to be SO important and SO critical. I spent countless hours poring over product reviews on Amazon.com. Spent HOURS researching breastfeeding and postpartum depression. It’s all done. All of it. Done. Realizing this was unsettling, as if I were supposed to turn in my uterus and ovaries, being that they were no longer needed. It made me really sad, and I started to get all weepy.
Just at that moment, in walks in Katie, followed shortly by her shadow, Mr. Jonathan. I looked at my two silly little munchkins and had an epiphany: for every moment of their babyhood that I mourn for, there are so many wonderful moments laying ahead in their childhood and adolescence waiting to be had. Ok, maybe not so much the adolescence—I know that’s a stretch (trying to be warm and fuzzy here, ok?)
I thank God every single day for all my blessings, especially the two little miracles that are my children. Each of them has their own special place in my heart. Collectively, they own me -- heart and soul.
When Katie was born, I realized that it was time to take all the baggage of my past out, work through it all, deal with it, and move on. I knew I had to be better because she deserved the best mother I could be, and I didn’t feel I could fulfill that role adequately unless I finally faced those demons, was brutally honest with myself and everyone, and finally dealt with the remaining personal symptoms of my mother’s murder (the symptoms I speak of were the 100 pounds I gained and the serious health issues developed as a result).
Jonathan is special because I believe in my heart that he is God’s way of telling me that He is in control, that He has a plan for me and that I need not fret over the unknown because everything is as it should be. I learned a valuable lesson about cherishing life as it is RIGHT NOW instead of trying to make it be something you think it should be. It’s so beautiful, because he is such an in-the-moment kiddo, so funny and carefree. He loves to make people laugh. His personality, I believe, is a reflection of that life lesson he was sent here to earth to teach me.
I can’t really recall how we arrived on two as our magic number. We somehow determined when I became pregnant with our second child that this was it for us. Whether we had a boy or girl, we were done. Finances did play a role, but a minimal one. I think the biggest factor was fear of being overrun or outnumbered, as silly as it sounds. My husband likes to put it in football terms: man to man coverage is always more effective than zone defense. I suppose one can rationalize it any way they see fit.
I am very content with the two beautiful, healthy, brilliant and funny children we have. I had a tubal ligation during our son’s c-section delivery, so the decision was finalized at that point. Still, I found myself asking my husband if he had any regrets about not going for a third. Without blinking an eyelash, he said “NO” and then went on to list his various reasons why—like being able to get a full night’s sleep at least five to six nights out of the week.
It occurred to me today while watching an episode of “Bringing Home Baby” that the whole pregnancy and childbirth journey is now behind me. That ship has sailed. All those days and weeks and hours spent reading every pregnancy and baby book, website; agonizing over which carseat, which stroller, which diaper pail--every little decision seemed to be SO important and SO critical. I spent countless hours poring over product reviews on Amazon.com. Spent HOURS researching breastfeeding and postpartum depression. It’s all done. All of it. Done. Realizing this was unsettling, as if I were supposed to turn in my uterus and ovaries, being that they were no longer needed. It made me really sad, and I started to get all weepy.
Just at that moment, in walks in Katie, followed shortly by her shadow, Mr. Jonathan. I looked at my two silly little munchkins and had an epiphany: for every moment of their babyhood that I mourn for, there are so many wonderful moments laying ahead in their childhood and adolescence waiting to be had. Ok, maybe not so much the adolescence—I know that’s a stretch (trying to be warm and fuzzy here, ok?)
I thank God every single day for all my blessings, especially the two little miracles that are my children. Each of them has their own special place in my heart. Collectively, they own me -- heart and soul.
When Katie was born, I realized that it was time to take all the baggage of my past out, work through it all, deal with it, and move on. I knew I had to be better because she deserved the best mother I could be, and I didn’t feel I could fulfill that role adequately unless I finally faced those demons, was brutally honest with myself and everyone, and finally dealt with the remaining personal symptoms of my mother’s murder (the symptoms I speak of were the 100 pounds I gained and the serious health issues developed as a result).
Jonathan is special because I believe in my heart that he is God’s way of telling me that He is in control, that He has a plan for me and that I need not fret over the unknown because everything is as it should be. I learned a valuable lesson about cherishing life as it is RIGHT NOW instead of trying to make it be something you think it should be. It’s so beautiful, because he is such an in-the-moment kiddo, so funny and carefree. He loves to make people laugh. His personality, I believe, is a reflection of that life lesson he was sent here to earth to teach me.
15 January 2007
Slug
Today is MLK day. As in Martin Luther King, the greatest civil rights leader of all time. I have off from work tonight, a holiday bestowed upon us with the condition that we will put ourselves out in service to the public today. I do not think I am going to adequately fulfill that condition.
It is now 2 in the afternoon and the kids and I are STILL in our pajamas. Katie did not have school today, so we spent a good part of the morning laying in bed, drinking chocolate milk, snuggling and watching Handy Manny and Charlie & Lola on Playhouse Disney. Or, more accurately, they drank the chocolate milk and watched the cartoons while I attempted to squeeze in a few extra Z's while alternately getting poked and prodded by various fingers in my eyes, mouth, ears, etc.
I have accomplished exactly nothing today. Finding a DSL filter for the new phone we bought yesterday hardly qualifies as an accomplishment, and certainly doesn't fall anywhere in the realm of public service. I suppose the ONE redeeming factor is the ton of baby stuff, clothes and toys we put outside for Purple Heart to pick up today. Or should I say my dear husband put outside, bless his heart.
I guess I'm in a bit of a funk today. Must be the crappy weather coupled with my dear ol' aunt being in town. Blah. I guess everyone is entitled to a slug day every now and again.
Do you think if I brushed my hair and teeth and put some make up on, would that qualify as a public service? At the very least, I wouldn't scare the crap out of small kids and repulse them with my dinosaur breath. Hmmmmm....
Update: Well, I did manage to clean BOTH bathrooms -- so if perhaps some random person needs to use my bathroom, at least they won't catch e coli. So, there's my public service. :0)
It is now 2 in the afternoon and the kids and I are STILL in our pajamas. Katie did not have school today, so we spent a good part of the morning laying in bed, drinking chocolate milk, snuggling and watching Handy Manny and Charlie & Lola on Playhouse Disney. Or, more accurately, they drank the chocolate milk and watched the cartoons while I attempted to squeeze in a few extra Z's while alternately getting poked and prodded by various fingers in my eyes, mouth, ears, etc.
I have accomplished exactly nothing today. Finding a DSL filter for the new phone we bought yesterday hardly qualifies as an accomplishment, and certainly doesn't fall anywhere in the realm of public service. I suppose the ONE redeeming factor is the ton of baby stuff, clothes and toys we put outside for Purple Heart to pick up today. Or should I say my dear husband put outside, bless his heart.
I guess I'm in a bit of a funk today. Must be the crappy weather coupled with my dear ol' aunt being in town. Blah. I guess everyone is entitled to a slug day every now and again.
Do you think if I brushed my hair and teeth and put some make up on, would that qualify as a public service? At the very least, I wouldn't scare the crap out of small kids and repulse them with my dinosaur breath. Hmmmmm....
Update: Well, I did manage to clean BOTH bathrooms -- so if perhaps some random person needs to use my bathroom, at least they won't catch e coli. So, there's my public service. :0)
14 January 2007
I guess this is a good sign?
I expected to be really down and cranky today because my beloved Eagles lost last night to the Saints. But, surprisingly I'm not. I suppose when you endure year, after year, after year of disappointment from a sports team, you kind of get used to it. I suppose I'm better able to recover from the disappointment since it's sort of become the expected end. It gets hard being hopeful and excited and then facing disappointment--yet again. But, such is the burden of being a fan of the Philadelphia Eagles, or, ANY Philadelphia sports team, for that matter.
I keep remembering how this season was supposed to be a bust, or at most fans thought so. After four consecutive losses and McNabb getting hurt mid-season, it sure pointed in that direction. I'm happy we made it to the playoffs. The Birds sure as hell played their asses off last night. To our detriment, there were a lot of really obvious calls that were not made against the Saints. Everyone was crying foul, thinking that somehow this is all "fixed" to get the Saints to the big game, because of Katrina, etc. I really can't believe it was some sort of big conspiracy. I will submit that the refs were obviously suffering from intermittent blindness last night, but I don't think the game was fixed. I think you had two really good teams really playing hard and one just played a LEETLE better than the other. It's not like it was a blowout or anything.
So, back to reality. It is kinda neat getting caught up in all the hysteria. I've never been involved in anything that is similar to being an Eagles fan in Philadelphia. It's a wonderful thing.
I keep remembering how this season was supposed to be a bust, or at most fans thought so. After four consecutive losses and McNabb getting hurt mid-season, it sure pointed in that direction. I'm happy we made it to the playoffs. The Birds sure as hell played their asses off last night. To our detriment, there were a lot of really obvious calls that were not made against the Saints. Everyone was crying foul, thinking that somehow this is all "fixed" to get the Saints to the big game, because of Katrina, etc. I really can't believe it was some sort of big conspiracy. I will submit that the refs were obviously suffering from intermittent blindness last night, but I don't think the game was fixed. I think you had two really good teams really playing hard and one just played a LEETLE better than the other. It's not like it was a blowout or anything.
So, back to reality. It is kinda neat getting caught up in all the hysteria. I've never been involved in anything that is similar to being an Eagles fan in Philadelphia. It's a wonderful thing.
12 January 2007
My Mamas . . .
One of my assignments this week for my Group Counseling class was to join an online google or yahoo group. No specific guideline as to interests was demanded, so I found an online post-op gastric bypass support group at Yahoo.
I wish, however, that I could utilize my group of mamas on my message board, but we're not supposed to use a group to which we are already a part. The truth is, however, is that they have been such a HUGE part of my life for the past five years. There are times when I sit and thing "my goodness, what would I do without them?" Life certainly would be so boring and lonely without them.
I cannot even begin to list all the ways in which that place enriches my life. I feel love, I feel respect, I feel acceptance, I feel understood, all within the context of the greatest journey of our lives: motherhood. We are a relatively diverse group, coming from all over the country and from all ends of the socioeconomic spectrum. While we are not largely diverse in race, we are diverse in opinions and values, which can make for some interesting discussions at times. However, what we are, at our core, is a group of women devoted to being there for one another. There are many times when tounges can only be bitten for so long, and you have to say your piece, but at the end of the day we know we have each other's back no matter what.
This weekend, one of our own is hurting. One very close to me, my sweet friend Kelly. Her father was just recently diagnosed with liver and pancreatic cancer--and by recent I mean like earlier this week. The whole process of getting diagnosed took longer than it should have, and now treatment is no longer an option. He will likely be gone in a few days. He is only 59 years old and the father of two beautiful daughters and four grandchildren. He underwent gastric bypass surgery a little over a year ago. It makes me angry to see all he went through to regain his health and prolong his life and now to end up like this. It's just awful.
It pains me greatly because I know that pain. I know that pain TOO well. And even after many years of managing that pain, it still hurts, and it tears me up to know that someone I love and care about and respect is going to head down that road. And I, along with about 75 wonderful women, will be there to hold her up when it gets too hard to carry on.
Kelly, I don't know if you will read this, but having lost a parent myself I know how much it hurts. It doesn't seem we are ever old enough to let go of our parents. I know myself all the emotions I went through: denial, anger, sorrow and sadness. It is so much to deal with, and there will be times when you think my goodness, I don't think I can do it. That's when you will need to do this: look at Vernon, look at Luke, look at Rachel. These three people are why you have to carry on. They will be your source of strength, your rock as you move through this process of saying goodbye, letting go, mourning and moving on.
I remember one particular night, not long after my mom died, a night when the pain was just so great. I knew I had to go on, but I didn't know how. I was a total mess. That night my mom came to me in a dream. I still remember how beautiful she looked, and she was dressed all in white and, I kid you not, had this strange glow around her. Was it real??? Who knows--but the message she said to me was "I'm fine. I'm happy. YOU have to go on, Carley. You will be ok." I will never forget this as long as I live.
For a long, long time, I really didn't know how to go on. I had no idea what to do, where to go for help. Shawn was so bewildered and so scared for me. But, one day, I found my way, and you will, too.
I wish, however, that I could utilize my group of mamas on my message board, but we're not supposed to use a group to which we are already a part. The truth is, however, is that they have been such a HUGE part of my life for the past five years. There are times when I sit and thing "my goodness, what would I do without them?" Life certainly would be so boring and lonely without them.
I cannot even begin to list all the ways in which that place enriches my life. I feel love, I feel respect, I feel acceptance, I feel understood, all within the context of the greatest journey of our lives: motherhood. We are a relatively diverse group, coming from all over the country and from all ends of the socioeconomic spectrum. While we are not largely diverse in race, we are diverse in opinions and values, which can make for some interesting discussions at times. However, what we are, at our core, is a group of women devoted to being there for one another. There are many times when tounges can only be bitten for so long, and you have to say your piece, but at the end of the day we know we have each other's back no matter what.
This weekend, one of our own is hurting. One very close to me, my sweet friend Kelly. Her father was just recently diagnosed with liver and pancreatic cancer--and by recent I mean like earlier this week. The whole process of getting diagnosed took longer than it should have, and now treatment is no longer an option. He will likely be gone in a few days. He is only 59 years old and the father of two beautiful daughters and four grandchildren. He underwent gastric bypass surgery a little over a year ago. It makes me angry to see all he went through to regain his health and prolong his life and now to end up like this. It's just awful.
It pains me greatly because I know that pain. I know that pain TOO well. And even after many years of managing that pain, it still hurts, and it tears me up to know that someone I love and care about and respect is going to head down that road. And I, along with about 75 wonderful women, will be there to hold her up when it gets too hard to carry on.
Kelly, I don't know if you will read this, but having lost a parent myself I know how much it hurts. It doesn't seem we are ever old enough to let go of our parents. I know myself all the emotions I went through: denial, anger, sorrow and sadness. It is so much to deal with, and there will be times when you think my goodness, I don't think I can do it. That's when you will need to do this: look at Vernon, look at Luke, look at Rachel. These three people are why you have to carry on. They will be your source of strength, your rock as you move through this process of saying goodbye, letting go, mourning and moving on.
I remember one particular night, not long after my mom died, a night when the pain was just so great. I knew I had to go on, but I didn't know how. I was a total mess. That night my mom came to me in a dream. I still remember how beautiful she looked, and she was dressed all in white and, I kid you not, had this strange glow around her. Was it real??? Who knows--but the message she said to me was "I'm fine. I'm happy. YOU have to go on, Carley. You will be ok." I will never forget this as long as I live.
For a long, long time, I really didn't know how to go on. I had no idea what to do, where to go for help. Shawn was so bewildered and so scared for me. But, one day, I found my way, and you will, too.
10 January 2007
Not my best moment . . .
I let Jonathan eat almost a quarter of a bag of miniature marshmallows while I bagged up my groceries today at the supermarket. Definitely not one of my best mommy moments . . .
09 January 2007
Brilliant . . .
I order most of my books for school online (a) because Drexel's bookstore is outrageous (as if their tuition isn't enough), not to mentioned staffed by Drexel's finest (read: incompetent morons) and (b) because shopping online is just too damn convenient.
So I order my book for Group Counseling, using the ISBN number given to me on the booklist sent to me earlier in the fall. It was super cheap used, like under $10, which is a historical amount considering most of my books are $50-$75. I was jazzed--thinking "yeah baby, I finally got one over the group of highly-paid assholes responsible for jacking up college textbook prices!!" I was geeked.
The book came in the mail today. Of course, It's the previous edition. Lovely. While I'm pretty sure that the data in the text isn't all that different from the revised version, it'll have to do.
Strangely enough, I did this last quarter in one of my other classes. I bought the older edition of a text from the bookstore and, the bookstore ordered the WRONG ONE. The professor upgraded to a later version (I swear they are getting kickbacks, but that's a whole nuther vent). Then, duh, I lost my receipt for the book I bought from the bookstore, so I couldn't return it (insert banging head emoticon here). And, being the angst-ridden overachiever that I am, I couldn't possibly make due with something lesser than what is required. End result of the madness: I read exactly ONE chapter from that $65 newer version that my professor INSISTED we have. That one chapter cost me, sum total, $125 bucks.
7 more months. It's my mantra these days, and one of the few things that keep me from jumping in front of a bus. ;-)
So I order my book for Group Counseling, using the ISBN number given to me on the booklist sent to me earlier in the fall. It was super cheap used, like under $10, which is a historical amount considering most of my books are $50-$75. I was jazzed--thinking "yeah baby, I finally got one over the group of highly-paid assholes responsible for jacking up college textbook prices!!" I was geeked.
The book came in the mail today. Of course, It's the previous edition. Lovely. While I'm pretty sure that the data in the text isn't all that different from the revised version, it'll have to do.
Strangely enough, I did this last quarter in one of my other classes. I bought the older edition of a text from the bookstore and, the bookstore ordered the WRONG ONE. The professor upgraded to a later version (I swear they are getting kickbacks, but that's a whole nuther vent). Then, duh, I lost my receipt for the book I bought from the bookstore, so I couldn't return it (insert banging head emoticon here). And, being the angst-ridden overachiever that I am, I couldn't possibly make due with something lesser than what is required. End result of the madness: I read exactly ONE chapter from that $65 newer version that my professor INSISTED we have. That one chapter cost me, sum total, $125 bucks.
7 more months. It's my mantra these days, and one of the few things that keep me from jumping in front of a bus. ;-)
08 January 2007
A vent about my toilet
We have this low-flush toilet in our first floor bathroom. While I'm all for anything that helps preserve the environment, it somewhat defeats the purpose of having a water-saving toilet if you have to flush the sonofabitch three times to make the average human-sized turd go down the drain.
I hate that damn thing. Carry on.
I hate that damn thing. Carry on.
1 down, 1 to go
1 kid at school right now, 1 still iffy . . .
Katie was a very happy little girl this morning to finally be going back to school. I can't wait to hear how her day went.
Jonathan, my sweet boy, has this awful cough. I kid you not, he coughed nearly nonstop for an hour last night--and this was after we gave him Triaminic Night Time Cough formula. This stuff just doesn't seem to work for either of them, so I'm done with Triaminic. Shawn ran out at midnight and got Dimetapp cough medicine that within 20 minutes of his dose, he was no longer coughing and able to breathe through his nose. He finally was able to sleep peacefully.
This morning he seems to be doing ok. The cough comes and goes, but he's his usual poophead self, so I'm taking that as a sign he's getting better.
Katie was a very happy little girl this morning to finally be going back to school. I can't wait to hear how her day went.
Jonathan, my sweet boy, has this awful cough. I kid you not, he coughed nearly nonstop for an hour last night--and this was after we gave him Triaminic Night Time Cough formula. This stuff just doesn't seem to work for either of them, so I'm done with Triaminic. Shawn ran out at midnight and got Dimetapp cough medicine that within 20 minutes of his dose, he was no longer coughing and able to breathe through his nose. He finally was able to sleep peacefully.
This morning he seems to be doing ok. The cough comes and goes, but he's his usual poophead self, so I'm taking that as a sign he's getting better.
06 January 2007
Quarantine and Caffeine
My poor Katie bug. :0(
This is Day 5 of this godforsaken virus. I feel so bad for her, and so damned helpless that I can't banish this illness to the depths of hell with my super mommy powers. Pisses me off.
I got home from school and she was sleeping. Yup, and it wasn't even dark out. You know she's sick when she takes a nap. She woke up with a fever -- 101.4. And her eyes--they're so bloodshot and swollen it looks like she's coming down off a four-day meth binge. Poor thing. Just breaks my heart.
The worst of it, besides it being DAY 5 of this sickness, is that she is just dying to go back to school. I honestly don't think she's going to be able to go back in on Monday, not without a miracle between now and then.
Last night was quite possibly one of the worst we've had in a long time. We didn't get to bed until very late as it were, then both kiddos woke up miserable at 1:30 a.m. Jonathan was burning up. I know this may seem paranoid, but I can't let my kids sleep alone when they have a fever. I always hear stories of kids having febrile seizures or respiratory issues due to fever so I'd rather be beside them if that were to occur. Our comfort (and theirs) is a small sacrifice. So we got Jonathan into our bed and got him a drink. Then Katie woke up and wanted to sleep with us, too. So here we were, the four of us, in our little queen sized bed. We had a nice little system going on there for a little while: Shawn and I laid with our heads to the foot of the bed while the kids slept in the middle with their heads at the top. The details after that are fuzzy, but I know there was a lot of whining and moaning and groaning and bitching and complaining, and that went on until about 2:30 a.m. So not fun.
The brightside of this is Jonathan's fever hasn't returned since the wee hours. For that, I am immeasurably thankful.
This is Day 5 of this godforsaken virus. I feel so bad for her, and so damned helpless that I can't banish this illness to the depths of hell with my super mommy powers. Pisses me off.
I got home from school and she was sleeping. Yup, and it wasn't even dark out. You know she's sick when she takes a nap. She woke up with a fever -- 101.4. And her eyes--they're so bloodshot and swollen it looks like she's coming down off a four-day meth binge. Poor thing. Just breaks my heart.
The worst of it, besides it being DAY 5 of this sickness, is that she is just dying to go back to school. I honestly don't think she's going to be able to go back in on Monday, not without a miracle between now and then.
Last night was quite possibly one of the worst we've had in a long time. We didn't get to bed until very late as it were, then both kiddos woke up miserable at 1:30 a.m. Jonathan was burning up. I know this may seem paranoid, but I can't let my kids sleep alone when they have a fever. I always hear stories of kids having febrile seizures or respiratory issues due to fever so I'd rather be beside them if that were to occur. Our comfort (and theirs) is a small sacrifice. So we got Jonathan into our bed and got him a drink. Then Katie woke up and wanted to sleep with us, too. So here we were, the four of us, in our little queen sized bed. We had a nice little system going on there for a little while: Shawn and I laid with our heads to the foot of the bed while the kids slept in the middle with their heads at the top. The details after that are fuzzy, but I know there was a lot of whining and moaning and groaning and bitching and complaining, and that went on until about 2:30 a.m. So not fun.
The brightside of this is Jonathan's fever hasn't returned since the wee hours. For that, I am immeasurably thankful.
Winter A, First Day
So now I feel like a total loser for whining about Group Counseling.
Turns out the prof is really cool and I think I'm going to like the class. Even if I never lead a group therapy session professionally, I know what I learn in this class, and Group II, will come in handy someday.
I really like the reflection stuff she makes us do at the end of class. Nifty.
Turns out the prof is really cool and I think I'm going to like the class. Even if I never lead a group therapy session professionally, I know what I learn in this class, and Group II, will come in handy someday.
I really like the reflection stuff she makes us do at the end of class. Nifty.
05 January 2007
Got shovel?
I just printed out my syllabi for my two Winter A session classes -- which are Cognitive Behavioral Therapy II and Group Counseling I.
The Group I syllabus is 8 PAGES LONG. Single spaced, with a huge motherf*ckin' chart that spans two pages. I can sum up the whole thing in two words: NO SLEEP
Fuuuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, and she gives us a sweet little quiz EVERY week. Lovely. I'm shitting sunshine, I tell you.
I suppose I should look for the brightside (Hellooo, brightside, where are you brightside??? Come out come out wherever you are . . . brightside?!?!) At least the torture won't continue for too long--the class is only six weeks.
Oh fart, I forgot I have her for Group II in Winter Session B. I think I'll just dig a hole and crawl into it now . . .
The Group I syllabus is 8 PAGES LONG. Single spaced, with a huge motherf*ckin' chart that spans two pages. I can sum up the whole thing in two words: NO SLEEP
Fuuuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, and she gives us a sweet little quiz EVERY week. Lovely. I'm shitting sunshine, I tell you.
I suppose I should look for the brightside (Hellooo, brightside, where are you brightside??? Come out come out wherever you are . . . brightside?!?!) At least the torture won't continue for too long--the class is only six weeks.
Oh fart, I forgot I have her for Group II in Winter Session B. I think I'll just dig a hole and crawl into it now . . .
Sick Babies...
My poor kiddos are both sick. :(
The Girl has some crazy virus. We are on day 4 of the fever, and we've already been swabbed for strep and had a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. Her other symptoms were diarrhea and a slight cough, but otherwise she was fine. She's been eating ok and taking fluids. This morning she's got gunk coming out of her eyes and they're all pink. I think she may have pink eye.
The Boy's fever started last night. He doesn't have any other symptoms other than that.
So we're off to the pediatrician at 1:30 to get them checked out.
I'm so worn out and worried about them. It's heartwrenching when one baby is sick, but to have both under the weather is even more nerve-wracking.
Their dispositions are pretty cranky, too, so that doesn't make for a pleasant afternoon. Earlier you couldn't tell if they were ill or not because they were running around here like a couple of crack monkeys.
The Girl has some crazy virus. We are on day 4 of the fever, and we've already been swabbed for strep and had a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. Her other symptoms were diarrhea and a slight cough, but otherwise she was fine. She's been eating ok and taking fluids. This morning she's got gunk coming out of her eyes and they're all pink. I think she may have pink eye.
The Boy's fever started last night. He doesn't have any other symptoms other than that.
So we're off to the pediatrician at 1:30 to get them checked out.
I'm so worn out and worried about them. It's heartwrenching when one baby is sick, but to have both under the weather is even more nerve-wracking.
Their dispositions are pretty cranky, too, so that doesn't make for a pleasant afternoon. Earlier you couldn't tell if they were ill or not because they were running around here like a couple of crack monkeys.
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