It's been a while...

If anyone still reads my blog, thank you! I am terrible about keeping up with my blog, unless I am really inspired to write about a particular topic.  Well, guess what world? I'm about to do what I refer to as "verbal vomit" (and anyone who knows me, knows what this is).

First, a disclaimer.  If this blog post in ANY way sounds like I'm trying to brag, make myself sound like a super great person, etc, that is COMPLETELY not my intention.  I am hoping that somewhere along the way, a girl happens upon my blog, someone who is struggling with issues, with getting through middle school, with dealing with bullying, someone who feels they are inferior.  I pray that God leads someone to my blog who might need to hear my words.

My youngest minion, my baby girl, just turned 12.  She's in the 6th grade.  Now, back in my day, when the dinosaurs roamed, and I had to walk in 10 feet of snow to school, 6th grade was still in elementary school.  Nowadays, it's middle school.  My girl LOVED elementary school.  She hated standardized testing, but otherwise, she was happy to go to school.  Middle school is the bane of her existence.  She's begged me several times to take her out of school, although she wavers on this because she said she'd miss seeing her friends.  Readers, you couldn't PAY ME enough money to go back to middle school-or, back in the old timey days, we called it junior high school.  It was awkward.  And the kids were just plain MEAN.  I was picked on so, so much.  My clothes weren't name brand, and weren't fashionable enough.  My shoes weren't name brand.  My hair was "weird".  I wasn't super smart (I had diagnosed ADHD back then, thankyouverymuch).  I was made fun of for the size of my (forgive me for saying this) breasts, like that's something a 13 year old girl has ANY control over.  I. hated. junior. high. school.

Now, my baby girl is being subjected to much of this nonsense.  Now, people who know my child know these things about her: she is nice to EVERYONE.  I have taught my kids that, even if they dislike a person, have NO RIGHT to make others feel inferior.  Ignore them, or do the Godly thing and be nice to them.  Luke 6:27-28 "But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you".  I don't want to sound like a martyr, or brag, but it's just something I've engraved into their minds, because of the way I was treated when I was a teenager.  I don't want them to make anyone feel the way those people made me feel.  So, she's very friendly.  She is an extremely loyal friend.  Her best friend has been her best friend since kindergarten.  She has a small group of friends, "the squad," that she mostly hangs out with.  She is very giving, which can be aggravating, because people know she has a hard time saying "no" and take advantage of her.  I tell her, all she can do is pray for those people, and pray that God gives her the courage to finally say NO.

My girl likes to experiment with her hair.  She is really into anime (Japanese animation, for those who aren't familiar), and likes to try out the hairstyles of various characters.  Of course, at school, her hair is made fun of because it's "weird".  I've reminded her of James 4:12  "There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and to destroy. But who are you to judge your neighbor?" I told her that it's hard to just shake off these comments, but she should be proud of herself for not trying to be like everyone else, and that God is the only person who has the right to judge her-and he's certainly not going to judge her over a hairdo!  I told her that she should try to turn the other cheek, which I KNOW is difficult to do, but being just like the everyone else means she's not being herself.  Girls, I know it's so, so hard to not go with the crowd.  I promise you, it's only a short part of your life, and when people are adults, most people do everything they can to try and be as different as possible. 

Picking my battles

I want to say, first and foremost, that this blog post is not me judging ANYONE.  People who know me, know that the "mommy wars" regarding "My way is the best way, and your way is wrong," is one of my biggest pet peeves.  I say, do what is best for YOUR family, and I will do what is best for mine, and as long as everyone has happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids, there is no one "right" way to parent.  This blog post is SIMPLY my observations in my almost 16 years as a parent, and includes my personal beliefs.  

As a mom of a 15 (almost 16!!!!) year old boy, a 13 year old boy, and a very, VERY strong-willed 11 year old girl, I have learned one VERY important lesson: Pick your battles.  Yep, I know, we hear this over and over and over and over again, but for real, parents: Pick. your. battles.

My 11 year old daughter is, in many ways, a mini-me.  She looks pretty much exactly like I did when I was 11.  Put us side-by-side, and people comment on how "freakishly similar" our looks are.  I'm sure I was very opinionated when I was 11.  And now, I have a very opinionated, VERY strong-willed girl.  Strong as in iron-clad strong.  And I've learned that some things I need to just let go.  She went to school this morning totally not matching.  As in, pink plaid pants with a top with an intricate design on it not matching.  I didn't care.  Because, they're just clothes, and it isn't worth getting into an argument over, stressing us BOTH out for the rest of the day.  When she had her cheerleading pictures taken, she wanted her hair in pigtails.  In the past, I fixed her hair up all nice and pretty, and she looked adorable.  But, she wanted pigtails this time around.  And I let her.  Because it shows who she REALLY is, what hairstyle she REALLY likes, and, in 20 years, I'll probably think it's adorable.  (Which, I DID think was adorable-I just LOVE fixing her hair).  These things aren't worth arguing over to me.  When she's 16, I'm sure we'll have many, MANY battles that outweigh her mismatched outfit, or a hairstyle that isn't a big deal.  And, when we go through these colossal battles, I don't want her to have to say, "You try to tell me what to do ALL THE TIME!" I think it's important for my kids to be able to dress in the clothes they like, and wear their hair the way they like it, even if it's not my favorite look, because they have more say in their appearance than I do.  To them, it's an expression of their personality.  It's one of the few things they, as children, have major control over.  It's something they can decide on for themselves.  As long as clothing is appropriate (no murder-y t-shirts, short shorts, or revealing clothing), I really don't care.  It's not a battle worth starting.

The battles I am willing to create and sustain, for the foreseeable future, is the monitoring of what my kids listen to and watch.  Now, I want to remind my blog readers (how many do I have? 3? 4?) that I am in no way judging parents who allow their children to do the following things.  It's my decision as the parent of MY children to not allow it.  My daughter tells me that her friends are allowed to watch this tv show, and listen to this music, and see this movie, and have SnapChat accounts, and YouTube accounts..."so whyyyy can't I? It's not fair! You're too overprotective of me! My friends can do so and so" ...

The thing is, my children live in a Christian home.  And I try to protect them from things that I feel they are too young to be exposed to.  Songs with sexual innuendos and cursing, inappropriate tv shows (I don't even let my 15 year old watch 'The Big Bang Theory' unless it's an episode I have seen and feel is appropriate for a person his age), movies with content I feel they don't need to be exposed to...And yet, people argue that I'm sheltering them, and when they go into the real world, it will be "shell shock" for them.  Not really.  See, my son is in high school.  Public high school. He hears foul language every day.  It makes him uncomfortable, because we don't curse in my house.  We don't listen to music with cursing in it.  We don't listen to the radio most of the time, unless it's, like, WROV (mostly classic rock), and I still change the station if a song comes on that I don't want them to listen to.  My son is exposed to this every day, and he has made the conscious decision that he does not like cursing.  

When they are older, and in the real world, and have been exposed to grown-up situations, I hope that the influences they had at home will help them to make wise and mature decisions that will please God.  For now, they are children, and they don't need to be exposed to the "reality" of the real world yet.  They are too young and not emotionally mature enough to deal with these situations yet, and this is one particular battle I have chosen to fight for.

 

Talk to Text Epic Fail

My daughter has a kind of unique name.  Her name is Arissa. *Not* MArissa, not CLArissa, not Melissa, but Arissa.  Yes, it's different.  And my talk to text doesn't want to recognize her name.  It fights her name with every fiber of its being. 

One time, I was texting with Scott (my husband, for readers who don't know that), and I told him, "Well, Arissa is in the tub."  It translated it to, "A wrestler is in the tub."  Needless to say, all my husband could respond with was, "?????? WHAT is in the tub????"  I had to reiterate, "Your daughter...NOT a wrestler."

Some other talk-to-text fails with her name:

-Caresses
-Services
-Reza (I don't know what that is?!?!)

That's not the only time my talk to text has epically failed.  At my former job as a preschool teacher, I was texting my assistant, who was subbing for me that day.  I was informing her that we were reviewing the letters "L M N O," but instead, it said, "L I am in Ohio."  Now, I was on the way to my grandmother's funeral, and she was kind of confused when she got a text saying I was in Ohio.

My son has a phone that sometimes likes to push all kinds of keys he didn't touch on the touch screen QWERTY keyboard when he types a text.  One time, he texted me and it said:

L Pllmyll PPS Lil roll 
lllpp0hoplnellplplplpp

LplplLll no lull poop LLD lpall
MP3 all
My phone is possessed (but he typed that last line himself)

I laughed that his phone said 'poop'.
He said it almost said "Llama lollipop"

Technology has come very far, but still makes me scratch my head...

Moms with young 'uns at home, this is for you.

Call centers that use the voice-operated menu instead of a menu where you push the number of your selection should have an option for moms with young kids at home that says something like, "If you are calling about your account, please say your account number now.  If you have small children at home, please hold the phone up to the loud noise in the background now, and you will be transferred the the next available representative."

Seriously, why do companies have menus where you have to speak to a computer in order to get through to a live person, and when you try pressing 0, "We did not recognize your selection," and BAM, they hang up on you?? Have these companies never heard the noises small children make??

"Please say your account number now."  "Two..."  "MOOOOOM!! The baby is eating a crayon!!"  -Pots banging in background-  -crashing noise-  "We're sorry, we did not recognize your response.  Please try again."  And forget shutting yourself in a room.  The "voice sensor"  WILL PICK UP the sound of the children banging on the door of the room you shut yourself in.  "Mama! What'cha doing, mama? You going potty? I want a snack! Mama?" Meanwhile, the other child is letting out blood-curling screams, because any time your face isn't visible, you've clearly disappeared off the face of the Earth.  Eventually, the automated system gives up and says, "Please try your call again later."  Sure, sure.  Maybe when they're in college and the house is quiet?

Serious matters to ponder

My oldest son, Hunter, and I, we like to ponder things together-but usually, we ponder the most random things that "normal" people don't think about.

One day, we started talking about the movie, Gremlins.  It probably came up because my kids' Furbies look a lot like the extremely adorable Gizmo, the Mogwai in the movie.  He's so cute, with his adorable little voice, and when he sings in his cute little language.

If you've ever seen Gremlins, then you know the #1 rule: NEVER, EVER FEED A MOGWAI AFTER MIDNIGHT! If you do...GREMLINS!!

Somehow, Hunter and I started to wonder...let's say you live on the East Coast (like I do), and you take your Mogwai with you on a vacation to, say, California, on the West Coast, which obviously is in a different time zone.  To follow the, "no feeding after midnight," rule, do you go by when it's midnight in the time zone you're in right now, or the time zone you live in? Does the Mogwai have some sort of internal clock mechanism so it can determine when it's midnight where it is? Does one need to stick to the, "no food after midnight" rule according to location, or according to home base??

And another thing...what time does that rule expire? If you really think about it...9:00 a.m. is still after midnight.  3:00 p.m. is still "technically" after midnight.  I mean, Mogwai has to eat sometime, right? So, how does one know when it's safe to feed it without fear of spawning a plethora of Gremlins??

My husband thinks Hunter and I are weird for even thinking about this in the first place, and he said we probably have too much time on our hands if we are capable of even thinking about it.  But really, these are important questions, and it's probably a good thing we thought about it, for the sake of Mogwai owners everywhere.  I mean, if SOMEONE doesn't think of these things, there really could be some serious consequences.  Do YOU want a Gremlin in YOUR house? Didn't think so.  You're welcome.

What NOT to tell a woman who wants chocolate

Eating healthy is something that is important to me. Obviously, in order to live a long and healthy life, fruits and vegetables are the choice foods to achieve that goal. Whatever the My Plate by USDA recommends. I love fruits and veggies-I was the only kid in my family who ate them. My grandma use to fuss at me for going into her garden and getting into her carrots and cucumbers. 


 But, lemme tell ya something, folks. When a woman is craving chocolate, and apple or a handful of baby carrots JUST DON'T CUT IT. Carrots don't taste like chocolate. Neither does an apple. If I were blindfolded and given a taste test, with a chocolate bar as item A, and a carrot as item B, I guarantee I can tell you which one is the chocolate. They do NOT taste the same, people!! And, I don't care what health nut gurus say: eating fruit is NOT THE SAME AS EATING CHOCOLATE. And, and, a carrot won't make my craving for chocolate magically disappear. I want a Hershey bar, not a flippin' carrot. Carrots do not have any milk chocolate-y goodness to them. Carrots are great-don't get me wrong. But, when hormones turn us ladies into moody, homicidal maniacs, the smartest/safest thing to say is, "What type of chocolate would you like? You look great, by the way." The DUMBEST thing you could say goes along the lines of, "Don't you think a nice apple would be better than that fattening chocolate bar? It'll make you gain weight." Because, I will throw the apple at your head and retreat into my corner with my chocolate bar, while mumbling, "My preeeeecioussssss."

This blog is a sad one...

I am currently mourning the loss of someone very near and dear to me, who passed away the day before Memorial Day.  I talked about her in one of my previous blog posts, so I'm not going to re-cap much of anything, except that her name was Pat, but I always called her Pat-o, and we lost her to cancer, and I'm taking things day by day and I'm trying to look at her loss from a Biblical perspective, but to say that I miss her is the understatement of the century, and to say my heart hurts is putting it mildly.  Here's a poem for you, Pat-o.  My special angel. 



Pat with (l-r) my sister, my brother and myself.  I was, oh, maybe 6 or 7 here.

                                           My Pat-o.

All we're left with are memories of you,

But what  I'm left with just won't suffice.

I miss you with every breath I take

Losing you has left a hole in my heart.

Sometimes I smile when I think of you,

Sometimes it's more than I can bear.

I know you would tell us to dry our tears,

Because you're OK,

But living every day without you

Makes me wonder when:

When will my heart no longer ache?

When will we say it's ok,

And finally rejoice

Instead of shedding more tears?

How do I finally accept

You're no longer here?

I miss your smile

I miss your voice

I miss you.

When will my heart no longer ache?

You were a rock people would lean on,

Your heart was open wide.

I'm not saying anyone is perfect,

But to everyone who lost you, it sometimes feels that way.

When will my heart no longer ache?

When will my tears subside?

When will your memory bring me joy

Instead of sorrow?

Time will lessen the sting

Until it no longer aches

When I think of you,

But right now

My broken heart doesn't know when.

 

Why my daughter will not have earrings until she is 18

The other week, I took Arissa out for a girl's day. I had to buy her a new bathing suit, so we headed to the mall. While we were there, she started a conversation we've had 100,000 times. "Mom, I REALLY want to get my ears pierced." I was 8 when I got my ears pierced, and Arissa knew this, so since she turned 8, she's begged me to let her get her ears pierced. I know my daughter. She has a VERY low tolerance for pain. She skins her knee and you would think an amputation is in the near future. I was very open with the fact that getting your ears pierced is no walk in the park-I mean, I have 7 ear piercings, so I kind of know what I'm talking about. I've told her that it WILL hurt when they pierce them, and they WILL hurt for a few days to a week after, and that she WILL have to clean them multiple times a day, which WILL NOT feel like a massage. I reiterated this, and she continued to beg me, promising me that she's a big girl and can handle the discomfort. I let her watch another girl get her ears pierced, and she still wanted to go through with it. I reminded her about caring for them, and how they'll hurt for a few days after, and that sleeping might be uncomfortable for a few days. She still wanted them, so I OK'd it. She bravely climbed up in the chair and sat there while they prepped their piercing equipment.


                           Arissa with Gilly, before piercing

 She asked me to hold her hand, so I complied. 1,2,3, and it was done. Her face afterwards should have been my first hint.

                       I daresay, this isn't the face of a happy child              

While I paid for her earrings, she complained that she felt sick to her stomach because she was in SO MUCH PAIN (which I reminded her about before the piercing commenced).  We had to go sit on the bench outside the store until she finally calmed down.  I went into one more store, and she told me that she'd feel a lot better if she had a cookie.  (That is one way I know she is my child).  We got the cookie, went home, and she immediately called her friends to tell them about her new earrings.  She even forgot that her ears hurt for a while, when we did some "Bad Furby" pictures. 

Then the time came to clean and turn her earrings.  I went ahead and popped a Xanax, because I knew this would be one of the most overdramatic moments of my day.  We put the cleaning solution on her ears, and she howled.  We tried to turn the earrings.  And by tried, I mean I chased her around the house while she screamed and begged me not to touch them.  I finally sat on her got her to sit beside me so I could turn the earring.  She told me they were too tight, so I tried to loosen the back of her earring, but all I did was look at it and she screamed that it hurt.  I told her that if we didn't do this, the earrings were coming out.  She finally sat sill for .03 seconds while I grasped the earring.  As soon as I touched her earring, she went into orbit and I pulled too hard, so the earring came allllll the way out.  I told her to stop moving so I could put it back in.  As soon as I put the earring up to her ear, she screamed at such high octaves, Mariah Carey would be green with envy.  I'm pretty sure her screams could second as a dog whistle.  She wouldn't let me put it back in.  She swore that the hole was already closed up.  I chased her around the house for another 10 minutes, telling her I would sit on her and cram it back in her ear that we had to get it back in, or it WOULD close.  Unfortunately, a 9 year old is much, MUCH faster than a 33 year old.  She won.  The earring didn't go back in, and she took the other one out.

I told her that we would re-consider getting her ears pierced again when she is 18 when she starts middle school.  Hopefully, I can convince her that she doesn't need them until she's in college.  I imagine holding down a 6th grader while turning newly-pierced earrings is a LOT harder than holding down a 60 lb. 9 year old girl.

Minecraft: I don't get it

Minecraft has overtaken my house.  For anyone who a) doesn't have a kid or b) lives under a rock, Minecraft is a computer game that apparently is very addicting.  It's really quite simplistic, graphically, and there really is no purpose in the game.  You build things.  The game uses 3-D cubes.  Everything is pretty much cube-shaped.  Like I said, graphics are simplistic.  Anyway, you build stuff.  And you stay away from creepers.  And apparently, you use the game to torment your siblings.  My kids can play on the same server, so they're in the same game, and when Scott (my husband) joins in, all hell breaks loose.  (It doesn't help that Scott is quite the instigator when he plays with the kids).  Tonight, I had to go outside, because my ears could no longer withstand the level of decibels in which the screaming reached while they played. I don't know what exactly they do in the game, but here are some ACTUAL quotes I wrote down while listening to the commotion:

-Kill it with fire!

- I need more chickens!

-Why is the wolf going after Dad?
 Because I hit it with an egg.

-Stop killing my wolves, or I'll kill your chickens!

-Tyler, stop killing your brother! (That one actually came from me)

-Leave my potatoes alone!

-He has an arrow sticking out of the back of his head.

-HE TOOK MY BED!! GIVE IT BACK!!
 Well then, give me back my dirt.

-I have angered the hot dog gods.

-Dad, stop putting cobwebs on my house!

I really, truly don't get it.  But I could write a book of quotes, because people, you can't make this stuff up.
 

So much for keeping up with my blog

I said I was going to try and update my blog frequently, but as usual, life has happened. In January (technically February-January 31st) I lost my grandma. I didn't "lose" her, but she passed away. She was 95 years old, and of course, I miss her, but she lived a long, happy life. Then, cancer reared its ugly head in my life. I call her my Aunt Pat, but she's not TECHNICALLY my aunt, as in she's not my mom's sister. They've been best friends since they were in 5th grade, and Pat-o has been in my life, well, my entire life. She was my mom's babysitter when mom went away with my stepdad for the weekend. Pat was who I called when I went through my dramatic "I want to run away from home" phase, and she came and picked me up for a girl's night out. Pat fixed my hair on my wedding day. Pat sat at the hospital with Scott and my mom the entire time I was in labor with Hunter (16 1/2 hours, but I wasn't at the hospital for maybe 3 hours of that time). She fed me ice chips and kept me occupied when Hunter was born and wasn't doing well. We had a Black Friday tradition where we went shopping: Pat, my mom, my sister and myself. Pat has always been in my life, and she's one of the most special and important people to me. There are no words to describe how much I love her-they wouldn't do justice. Cancer is yanking Pat from our lives. From her husband and son's life, from her mom's life, from her brother's life, from her niece and nephew's life, and from my mom's life. Pat is my mom's absolute best friend. She's being torn from our lives, too soon. None of us could imagine that something like this would happen-and in such a short time. We're trying to imagine life without her: without her smile, her laugh, her hugs, and for me, hearing, "Love you, baby," even though I'm 33 years old. I know she'll be in Heaven, rejoicing that she will no longer have pain (biggest cliche). I know that Earth is not our "true" home, and these are not our "true" bodies. I know God probably has some sort of plan from all this, although in my state of shock and hurting, I'm failing to see the good in this. But my thing is, we wanted more time with her. We don't want to have to say goodbye to this special person who should still have half her life in front of her. Maybe that makes me a selfish person, but I don't want to rejoice that she will soon be with Jesus in Heaven, because even though Heaven is an awesome place, we all want her here for many more years. But, we don't have many more years. We might have a few days, or a week, if we're lucky. And those last moments with her are spent seeing her wasting away, and writhing in pain. It's awful to watch, and even worse knowing she's spending her last days on Earth in this misery. It's a hard pill to swallow. I'm slowly working through the pain, but the cliche remarks people say trying to be helpful, well, aren't. I know people feel awkward and don't know what to say, so I'm not bashing anyone. I'm just saying, we'd love to rejoice that she'll be with Jesus, no longer in pain, but we're too busy working through the pain of knowing that soon, we'll never be able to talk to her, to hug her, to text her that we love her, or to see her. And I hope that, in posting this random, rambling blog post, people understand that everyone processes death differently, and not everyone is "ok" with losing someone because they are in Heaven with Jesus. It still hurts. A lot. So here is my tribute to my "Aunt" Pat. Patty. Pat-o, as I call her. I love you so very extremely much, more than I could put into words. You've been such an important part of my life, for my entire life, and for that, I'm so ever thankful, because even if it wasn't enough time, I wouldn't give up any of the time I had with you.

It's been a while

I can't believe how long it's been since I've blogged! I think one of my New Year's resolutions will be to keep up with my blog. Or, at least post more often than once every 2 years.

I don't know how many people actually read my blog. In case anyone does, I'll give a little update/synopsis of life in the Graham household.

In May of 2012, I finally graduated from college. My feelings on this are divided. Sure, I'm proud that I can now call myself a college graduate, even though it's an Associate's degree in General Studies, which has very little use in the employment field. On the other hand, I started college in 1999. Or was it 1998? Yeah, I think it was 1998, because I had to go to class on my wedding day (I got married on a Friday night) because my professor wouldn't accept, "I'm getting married today," as a reason to miss class. What I'm saying is, it took me 14 years to get my 2 year degree. Here's how it went down:

1998- I took my first "real" full course load at VWCC, all core courses, because I had NO idea which career path I was interested in. I took the AP/dual enrollment English class my senior year of high school, so according to VWCC, I enrolled in September of 1996. Geez, my time at VWCC gets longer, and longer, and longer. Anyway, I finished my first semester in December of 1998 and had to take the next semester off because Hunter, my oldest, was born in April of 1999. I figured having a newborn and taking finals wouldn't go well together, so I took the semester off.

I went back in August of 1999 and decided it would be "fun" to take a Drawing I class as one of my electives. Never mind that I can't draw stick figures accurately...I get these bright ideas (or at least I think they're bright), and nothing can convince me it's a bad idea until there's an epic fail. Drawing I WAS an epic fail, and I sucked at it (I think I made a C). My instructor really didnt' like me for some reason. BUT, one good thing was, I loathed my totally insane drawing instructor, and so did this hilarious girl sitting beside me in drawing class. That hilarious girl was named Bryana, who to this day is still a friend of mine. I took 2 or 3 more semesters off when I went back to work full-time. I got pregnant with my 2nd son and ended up being a SAHM, so I decided to try and take a few more classes. Bryana and I both decided, when we were both over halfway finished with our degrees, it would be super fun if we tried for a Communication Design degree. Never mind that, in addition to lack of drawing skills, I lacked doing anything creative on the computer, and I had no idea how to use a Mac, which is what ALL Comm Design classes use. I took comm Design classes for I don't even know how many more semesters. I took Art History classes, which turns out I really loved taking, Typography, and some graphic design classes. I realized Graphic Design wasn't for me, so I looked into my options and realized I only had a few classes left to get my General Studies degree. By this time, I was in my mid-20's and just wanted to get it over with. Most of my classes left I was able to take via distance learning, which was good for me because finding time to take classes when you have 2 kids and you're working part-time...you get the idea.

I worked my butt off taking my distance learning classes. I was also fertile Myrtle and was pregnant with my 3rd kiddo. Bryana and I took Biology 101 Hybrid together when I was pregnant with Arissa. I had labs one Saturday a month for 4 months. I went to my last Biology lab 8 months pregnant, and took my Biology final 3 weeks before my due date. She was born January 10, 2004, so I took that semester off, which had to be an act of God, because Arissa was born with health problems and was hospitalized 7 times in her first year. I stupidly went back in August of 2004 and took more distance learning classes. That semester was the worst semester for me, because I had to keep up with a 5 year old, a 2 (and by October, a 3) year old, and a very sick girl who was in the hospital 3 times that semester. I was fortunate to have teachers who were flexible with me; I mean, what do you say to a student who calls and says, "I can't come in and take my test, because my baby is in the hospital and I can't leave her"? I finished that semester and I was burned out. Even though I only had 6 credits left to graduate, I couldn't handle school any more.

2004 was a hellish year for me, and I was physically and emotionally burned out. Although Arissa's health issues weren't life-threatening, to ensure that she would grow and thrive, I was dealing with 3 doctors, weekly weight check-ups, bolus feedings, g-tube feedings, apnea monitors, monitors going off multiple times nightly, numerous hospitalizations for failure to thrive, a hospitalization from c-diff, corrective surgery for her, and then accusations that I was intentionally causing her to not gain weight. School was the last thing I cared about. I was burned out and decided to stop going after my December 2004 semester.

I went back to school the summer of 2011. I talked to my Academic adviser and found out that I did NOT have to take a Math class I thought I had to take. Because I had taken so, so, so many classes in my various changes in majors, one of those many, many, many classes could be substituted for my Math class. I only had 4 credits needed to complete my General Studies degree. WOO-HOO! So, the summer of 2011, I took my last class: Biology 102. I took my final exam on my 32nd birthday. A couple months later, I got the letter from VWCC stating I had completed all the necessary courses and could apply for graduation. At first, I wasn't going to go to graduation, because I think it's ridiculous that it took me as long as it did to get a 2 year degree, and I was embarrassed to make a huge show of it. After being urged by family and friends, I decided to go through with it. Here I am with my diploma. I had a lot of family and friends come to watch me walk across the stage, and I appreciate everyone who came and cheered for me.

When I try to explain why I don't think graduating is a big deal, I hear a lot of responses of assurance. "You were raising a family and working. Of course it took you longer than normal." I know it's bad to compare myself to anyone else, but I can't help but think about the fact that somewhere out there, there are people whose situations were/are a million times worse than mine who put themselves through college at a faster pace. Single moms with absolutely no help working full-time and taking college courses. Kids who worked 2 jobs so they could afford tuition while going to school full-time. Even recent high school graduates who worked and went to school. I was just an indecisive person who changed majors, took time off, then got burned out and almost quit. And I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
/
It turns out this blog post ended up being all about me, which wasn't my intention. To keep this blog post from turning into a novel, I shall say...To be continued...

New beginnings

I sent my oldest child off to middle school the other week. It was a big step for him, and for me. As parents, we know that our purpose is to raise our children to become successful and independent, yet each stage they reach is difficult for parents.

My kids (except Arissa) are out of the snuggly stage. Tyler won't hold my hand in public any more. He says, "What if someone I know sees me holding your hand??" Yes, being a parent is difficult at times, seeing your child need you less and less, yet at the same time, it makes a parent proud to see what their child can accomplish.

Hunter was pretty scared about starting middle school. He was very scared of his locker, scared of the new people, nervous that he'd get lost, and VERY nervous about dressing out for P.E. Yet, 2 weeks later, he has his schedule down pat, can get his locker open, and, although he isn't crazy about it, dresses out in the boys locker room (which, by the way, he has informed me that the boy's locker room REEKS- and I have to wonder, coming from an 11 year old boy who we have to nag to take a shower and change his socks, if he thinks it smells that bad, it must be BAD). Middle school is teaching him to be responsible on his own.

Nobody said being a parent was easy.

The chaos of a school morning

Why do I love summer so much? Maybe it's because I love flip flops and shorts. Maybe it's because I love the pool. Or maybe it's because I don't have any kids I have to drag out of bed and get out the door by 7:05. Seriously, mornings are my LEAST favorite part of school. My middle child, Tyler, is SO NOT A MORNING PERSON. He drags his feet half the morning and is grouchy. He doesn't want to eat. He just wants to stare at the wall. (Gee, where did he get that from??) I adore my kids, but he is a bear to get ready in the morning, no matter how prepared we are the night before. You can drag a kid out of bed, but once he's out of bed, the only thing you can do is nag, nag, nag them to get ready. I can't say I blame him. I hate mornings, too. I take that back. I detest mornings. Summer, I may complain about how hot it is when you are around, and I may complain about the kids being in my hair all. day. long. But I miss my lazy summer days already. Getting up at 6:15 is for the birds.

Pity Party, and ode to Sarah

This is my pity party, because it's my blog and I can whine if I want to.

I find it hard to make/keep any close friends. It makes me feel like a loser. It's *always* me who has to pick up the phone to call. People don't typically call me to check and see how I'm doing, if I'm still alive, etc. It makes me sad, because after a while I feel like I'm harassing them. I always thought I was pretty fun in a social setting. I'm shy sometimes. Other times I talk a lot. I have ADD, so I tend to be socially awkward, but I don't want to put myself out there any more, because I usually wind up getting hurt in the long run. The *one* person in my life who knew the phone worked both ways, well, she's living in another country, going to vet school, and more than likely she's never going to live here again. Sometimes the kids and the husband just don't cut it, KWIM? But socially awkward me only manages to go out with friends every 2-3 months, and it's usually *me* who has to instigate anything. Sorry if anyone is pissed from this post, but I'm really, really sad right now, because I'm realizing that, in general, I'm merely an acquaintance to most people I know.

I miss my BFF. She's the one person who loves me and accepts me, with my socially awkward personality, negativity and all. Sarah, thank you for being my best friend through thick and thin, through good times and bad, through all my mental times, through my pregnancies, my childbirths, hormones and all. Thank you for listening to my crying through all my teenage drama, for being in my wedding (and helping me plan through the madness), and being an aunt to my children. I <3 you, dear, and I miss you so terribly.

Secret vault of words rejected by the Oxford English Dictionary uncovered

I don't know why some of these were rejected...

Earworm – a catchy tune that frequently gets stuck in your head
("Ca-li-fornia girls, we're undeniable, daisy dukes, bikinis on top"...yeah, you're welcome).

Espacular – something especially spectacular.
Hmm, I can see that being used for sarcastic purposes. Like, when I say something is awesome; for example, "My daughter woke me up 4 times last night. Awesome." (Sarah got me hooked on that word. Thank you, Ms. Janney)

Furgle – to feel in a pocket or bag for a small object such as a coin or key
Yep, been there, done that. Although I have to wonder when the object rolls over from the "small" category to the "regular" category? I have 4 keys and 2 keychains, so is that still considered small?

Headset jockey – a telephone call center worker
I like that MUCH better than customer service rep!!!

Optotoxical – a look that could kill, normally from a parent or spouse
Oh yeah, my kids have gotten those looks before. Husband, too.

Polkadodge – the dance that occurs when two people attempt to pass each other but move in the same direction
This is the perfect description for what Lesley and I do every time we work together. It is inevitable that, at some point in the evening, we'll almost run into each other, and polkadodge in order to avoid a head-on collision.

Spatulate – removing cake mixture from the side of a bowl with a spatula
I don't have much of an opportunity to do this. Usually, my kids just ask to lick the bowl.

Sprummer – when summer and spring time can't decide which is to come first, usually hot one day then cold the next.
Welcome to Virginia, home of sprummer.

Whinese – a term for the language spoken by children on lengthy trips
Do the trips have to be lengthy? Because my kids speak whinese on a daily basis, regardless of the length of the trip we're taking.

Giving credit to http://www.telegraph.co.uk for the use of words in their article

Childhood and summertime

Being a kid today is WAY different from when I was a kid. And I'm not talking about the "I had to walk to school in 6 feet of snow" kind of way. (Although, on a serious note, I *did* have to walk in the snow to catch the bus...no lie. My dad's gravel driveway was almost 1/2 a mile, and the bus stopped at the top of the driveway. When it snowed, which "back in my day" it snowed a lot- hellooooo blizzards of '93 and '96- we had to walk to the bus stop, or miss school. And in order to miss school in my house, you had to be near death). When I was a kid, we had more independence than kids today do. (Again, more in the "mom locked the door for the entire day" kind of way). Not that I don't allow my kids to have independence, but I think it's no secret that the dangers of the world are more frequently in the media today vs. when I was a kid...anyway, that's a different subject for a different time. I have some special memories of summertime from when I was a kid, and I'd like to take this opportunity to share some with my 2 blog readers :)

-Honeysuckle. Oh, how I loved walking around picking honeysuckle off people's vines. (Today that would be called trespassing). I loved the smell of honeysuckle, too, and I got so excited when that tiny bit of honey came out!

-Ice cream trucks. Yup, our neighborhood had an ice cream truck that came by, and buddy, he was a busy ice cream man. I loved standing in line with my 2 quarters in my had (yep, .50) eagerly pondering which frozen treat I'd pick. Most of the time my choice was the "bomb pop".

-Roaming the neighborhood all day. My mom was a lucky one. We could roam the neighborhood all day, with all the kids in the neighborhood. We'd come in when the street lights came on, or maybe the couple of random times when we got hungry or needed to go to the bathroom. Sometimes Mom would lock the doors, so if we were hungry or had to use the bathroom, we were out of luck. (What would the neighbors think if I locked my kids out of the house today? I'd probably go to jail.)

-Lemonade stands. My mom worked, so we stayed with my grandma during the day, which meant a whole other set of friends. I distinctly remember setting up several lemonade stands during the summer. Our lemonade was made of the instant powdered stuff, in an empty gallon milk jug with some paper cups, and we made a stand out of some random cardboard box we found in Grandma's basement. The 2 or 3 people that walked or drove by would have pity on us and pay the .25 for a cup of warm lemonade, which meant that we consumed most of it.

-The beauty shop. My grandma ran a beauty shop in her basement. She permed and cut little old ladies hair day in and day out while her grandchildren were under her feet. I loved hanging around the beauty shop, watching my grandma giving perms and manicures to her lady friends, while they sat under those hair dryers and read the plethora of magazines on Grandma's table. When it came time for Grandma to trim my hair, I'd pretend I was one of her customers.

-Cooking lessons. Staying with Grandma meant lots and lots of cooking. My grandma is the reason I know how to cook. Mom says she remembers every time Grandma would get out her pots and pans, I'd drop whatever I was doing to come running in the kitchen to help out. My grandma had a garden, and I'd help her "snap" and "string" the beans, cut cucumbers and squash, and bake whatever it was she was about to put in her oven. She did a lot of baking, too. By the time I was 10, I could crack eggs and scramble them, make a salad (not the bagged stuff, either), and put together a basic spaghetti dinner.

-My friend Erin. We went to different schools, and she lived in my grandma's neighborhood, so I mostly only saw her in the summer. I guess you could say she was my "summer BFF". We roamed my grandma's neighborhood (which I would NOT advise doing today), picking grapes off the neighbor's grapevine (again, trespassing today, but he loved the company), ran through the sprinkler...and on and on.

Of course, I have a *lot* more memories of summertime, but this is what has come to mind so far. To be continued?...

You can't make this stuff up

My most recent conversation with my 6 year old daughter, Arissa:

Arissa: Mom, can I cut my bangs off?
Me: WHAT?!?!?! Why on earth do you want to cut your bangs off?
Arissa: (In her best sarcastic, "duh mom" voice) Because I made a unicorn horn out of paper, and I'm trying to tape it to my head, but it won't stick because my bangs are in the way. So I figured if I cut my bangs REAL short, my unicorn horn would stick to my forehead.
Me: no ma'am, you are NOT cutting your bangs off. They will take months and months to grow back.
Arissa: -sigh- I guess I won't be a majestic creature, then.

At least she asked for permission first...right?

Salem, the mystical city of time warps

I admit it...I got a new cell phone. My new cell phone is uber-techno, thanks to my husband. I wanted a nice, normal phone...he wanted me to get a smartphone. My phone uses Android. Yeah, ostentatious as it is, I love it. I admit it. I miss my QWERTY keyboard, and I can't text as fast as before, but I can check Facebook, my e-mail, play games, browse the 'net...you know, because I'm not connected enough as it is.

Anyway, I had an appointment in Salem the other day. I was in the waiting room and checked the time on my phone. 11:30? What the what? My appointment time was at 1:45. I was pretty sure that I didn't accidentally leave the house super early (I'd be more inclined to leave the house super late), since I fed my kids lunch when they alerted me when it was noon. (Actually, their stomachs did. Their stomachs have built-in alarms that go off at noon when they haven't had lunch, and they complain to me that they're starving to death). I looked at my watch...2:30. Hmmm. Did I go back in time? I fiddled with my phone. It recognized that I was in Salem, which is in the Eastern time zone...yet each time I go to Salem, my phone goes back in time 3 hours. Boggles the mind. And should make things interesting, because I work in Salem.

A time-saver of an idea

The other day, I let the kids play outside in the sprinkler. Actually, they came home begging me to let them run through the sprinkler, and since just looking outside made me sweat, I said OK. The kids came out in their bathing suits, and I sat on the porch, er, supervised them, while they played. A few minutes later, I found a bottle of my Bath and Body Works hand soap on the porch.
Me: Guys, why is this soap out here?
(Crickets chirping)
Me: Guys?
Arissa: Well, Mom, I figured I'd go ahead and get my bath out of the way!

Hmm, it IS an idea for the next time we're in a hurry...

Bliss!

There's something about a simple, easy-going day that makes me happy. Yesterday, I took the kids to Troutville park. We loaded up the picnic basket with sandwiches, cookies, fruit, bottles of water and such, spread a blanket under a tree, and had lunch. Then the kids ran off to play while I lounged on the blanket (to keep it from blowing away, hee hee) and read a book. I helped Arissa see-saw, then we came home and had ice cream. Ice cream makes any day awesome!