I feel dissatisfied. Or antsy. Or irritable. Something.
Maybe it is because I've hardly left the house in a week. I don't know.
Maybe it is because I can't seem to get my behind BEHIND a story I want to write. I don't think so.
Everything I read irritates me. Especially the fiction.
Everything on TV irritates me. Especially the two hour premieres that are preempting my regularly scheduled programming (Don't get me wrong, I like a little American Idol, but two hours of those poor folk who sing like junk isn't my idea of a quality pastime.). I watch two shows a week. At least one won't be on this week. And it isn't like a book is going to grab my attention--in a good way that is.
Okay, but a book that didn't annoy me...Deb Raney's Remember to Forget is out next month. And lookie here: I got quoted. You'll have to scroll down a bit to the book bio. I always love her books. I felt cheezy setting my book in small town Kansas wondering if anyone who hasn't been here could appreciate it until I read how realistically Deb writes Kansas. Then again, I grew up here so I guess I'm not the best judge.
Anyway. A bright spot in an otherwise dreary day.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
A New Fav
Children's Dimetapp Nighttime Flu Syrup.
Trust me. I got three uninterrupted hours of sleep last night. It was SOOOOO worth going out in the ice storm for this stuff. And I can't even get my ice covered van back in the garage so you know the stuff is good.
Can anyone tell me how long this illness is going to last?
Trust me. I got three uninterrupted hours of sleep last night. It was SOOOOO worth going out in the ice storm for this stuff. And I can't even get my ice covered van back in the garage so you know the stuff is good.
Can anyone tell me how long this illness is going to last?
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Totally Cracking Up
Someone visited my blog after searching "what makes you fall asleep in the middle of doing something." One, I have no clue WHAT I was blogging about. Two, I wasn't even on Google's first two pages as a hit and I'm not curious enough to check twenty thousand pages to find out.
But in case someone really wants to know the answer.....
MOTHERHOOD.
And I think Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner should hook me up with some free stuff. You wouldn't believe the number of people who visit me when they search for that.
I knew I should never get into Googlies (Thanks Tess, Um, Liz, Um, not sure I should link because you've gone all "check your references and I'll let you know if you can have a link" on me.(my references checked out)).
But in case someone really wants to know the answer.....
MOTHERHOOD.
And I think Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner should hook me up with some free stuff. You wouldn't believe the number of people who visit me when they search for that.
I knew I should never get into Googlies (Thanks Tess, Um, Liz, Um, not sure I should link because you've gone all "check your references and I'll let you know if you can have a link" on me.(my references checked out)).
In Case you are Curious
When you have three kids with the flu, by day five you are all out of compassion.
Mother Theresa types need not comment.
But you are welcome to pray for me.
Mother Theresa types need not comment.
But you are welcome to pray for me.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Falling Ice Balls
I am so much loving the street I live on this week. Ice began falling from the sky this morning and before noon the salt truck made four passes down my street.
I don't live on a busy street. I live on a hilly street. I live on a curvy street. But my street is not a thoroughfare. My sister's street may make it all the way through a storm and well beyond without one plow or salt truck passing her home. And she lives in a "nicer" neighborhood.
Hubs thinks one of the salt truck drivers must live nearby. Whatever. I'm thankful.
I don't live on a busy street. I live on a hilly street. I live on a curvy street. But my street is not a thoroughfare. My sister's street may make it all the way through a storm and well beyond without one plow or salt truck passing her home. And she lives in a "nicer" neighborhood.
Hubs thinks one of the salt truck drivers must live nearby. Whatever. I'm thankful.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
The Plague
aka The Flu?
I don't really know. I've never had the flu. I hear about the flu. Nurses are always recommending that I get a flu shot. I hear about the "feel like I've been hit by a train" comparison. I don't know. I've never understood the flu.
My mom used to always call our stomach bugs "the 24 hour flu," but I'm pretty sure that isn't worth panicking over not enough vaccine for...I mean, really.
My daughter came down with something. I suppose it is the flu. It has been going around since before Christmas and we missed the first bout and I expected to miss this one. They sort of cough for about a day, but not like a bronchitis. Then fall asleep in the middle of the day, then spike a fever, then break the fever, then puke. Then nothing for hours, then fall asleep in the middle of the living room, then spike a fever again. Is this this flu?
My eldest son keeps complaining about not feeling quite right also, but he is always so suddenly better just as soon as he gets whatever treatment his sister got that I'm suspicious. She didn't go to school this morning and he therefore didn't want to go either. Of course the school called an hour later that he wasn't feeling well. I drug her out of bed, drove over to get him wondering how I had missed the symptoms so badly.
Nope, he was fine. Still is. And yet I probably won't send him to school in the morning. Might as well save myself the trip of the extra pick-up, don'tcha think?
Though my mom would never let me stay home with a little cough and headache. No fever, no staying home from school. Especially if the headache only manifests itself five minutes out of every two hours.
When a kid chatters all the way home and asks if he can have friends over...I don't care what he is coughing and how bad his "head hurts" he isn't sick.
But my friend, who is on child number two of this disease we will call the plague promises me he will be sick tomorrow and the guilt will eat me up.
We'll see. He did this all day yesterday also.
I really prefer to just have well children. I suppose a lively game of dominoes tomorrow instead of schoolwork and housework will be worth it for them all to be well Tuesday when they go back.
Maybe by then everyone else will have had the plague also and we can go back to real life.
I don't really know. I've never had the flu. I hear about the flu. Nurses are always recommending that I get a flu shot. I hear about the "feel like I've been hit by a train" comparison. I don't know. I've never understood the flu.
My mom used to always call our stomach bugs "the 24 hour flu," but I'm pretty sure that isn't worth panicking over not enough vaccine for...I mean, really.
My daughter came down with something. I suppose it is the flu. It has been going around since before Christmas and we missed the first bout and I expected to miss this one. They sort of cough for about a day, but not like a bronchitis. Then fall asleep in the middle of the day, then spike a fever, then break the fever, then puke. Then nothing for hours, then fall asleep in the middle of the living room, then spike a fever again. Is this this flu?
My eldest son keeps complaining about not feeling quite right also, but he is always so suddenly better just as soon as he gets whatever treatment his sister got that I'm suspicious. She didn't go to school this morning and he therefore didn't want to go either. Of course the school called an hour later that he wasn't feeling well. I drug her out of bed, drove over to get him wondering how I had missed the symptoms so badly.
Nope, he was fine. Still is. And yet I probably won't send him to school in the morning. Might as well save myself the trip of the extra pick-up, don'tcha think?
Though my mom would never let me stay home with a little cough and headache. No fever, no staying home from school. Especially if the headache only manifests itself five minutes out of every two hours.
When a kid chatters all the way home and asks if he can have friends over...I don't care what he is coughing and how bad his "head hurts" he isn't sick.
But my friend, who is on child number two of this disease we will call the plague promises me he will be sick tomorrow and the guilt will eat me up.
We'll see. He did this all day yesterday also.
I really prefer to just have well children. I suppose a lively game of dominoes tomorrow instead of schoolwork and housework will be worth it for them all to be well Tuesday when they go back.
Maybe by then everyone else will have had the plague also and we can go back to real life.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
The Best of Intentions
My dishes are stacked in the sink, but not washed.
My laundry is in the laundry room, but not washed.
I made cookies, but don't feel like putting them away.
My boys room is picked up but not vacuumed.
And a literary agency that doesn't take unsolicited queries (much less manuscripts) from unpublished writers is open to queries (this month only) from people with my initials (the odds aren't good folks) and I can't decide whether to send anything in.
I am tired. So tired. And so unmotivated. I know it all needs to be done, the question is, will I do it?
My laundry is in the laundry room, but not washed.
I made cookies, but don't feel like putting them away.
My boys room is picked up but not vacuumed.
And a literary agency that doesn't take unsolicited queries (much less manuscripts) from unpublished writers is open to queries (this month only) from people with my initials (the odds aren't good folks) and I can't decide whether to send anything in.
I am tired. So tired. And so unmotivated. I know it all needs to be done, the question is, will I do it?
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Prayer
Tonight I'm going over to pray for a friend who can't seem to kick a cancer. All she has so far is a blip on the MRI and a lump, but she's going in for further testing tomorrow. Anyone who would like to send up a prayer for Cara, I'm sure it'll be appreciated. We're praying that a blip is only a blip and nothing more.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Seriously!
How can men, who have cared nothing about certain teams (ahem, the NFC for example) spend an entire weekend watching their games?
I understood as long as the Chiefs were playing (better luck next year...). I even sort of get the AFC West teams (we even can name some of the players). But if you tell me the Jets are playing the (crud, can't even remember because there has been so much football today), and I can't bring up the city the teams are from (I know now, I asked) I don't see the point.
I asked Hubs. Not trying to pick a fight. I wasn't. I just don't understand why we all of a sudden care. He said it is because we will be watching them next week in the next round of playoffs....
And why?
Well, we want to be familiar with the teams when they get to the Superbowl.
We do? Don't we just root for the AFC? Don't we primarily watch for the commercials and the food?
Until the Chiefs make it, I won't get it.
Ugh, and I wrote and sold an article about men deserving an afternoon of football every now and then.
I just don't think they necessarily need an ENTIRE WEEKEND OF TEAMS WE DON'T GIVE A RIP ABOUT.
I have a TV noise headache.
I'm reading a really cool book though (dangerous in January considering the content):
I understood as long as the Chiefs were playing (better luck next year...). I even sort of get the AFC West teams (we even can name some of the players). But if you tell me the Jets are playing the (crud, can't even remember because there has been so much football today), and I can't bring up the city the teams are from (I know now, I asked) I don't see the point.
I asked Hubs. Not trying to pick a fight. I wasn't. I just don't understand why we all of a sudden care. He said it is because we will be watching them next week in the next round of playoffs....
And why?
Well, we want to be familiar with the teams when they get to the Superbowl.
We do? Don't we just root for the AFC? Don't we primarily watch for the commercials and the food?
Until the Chiefs make it, I won't get it.
Ugh, and I wrote and sold an article about men deserving an afternoon of football every now and then.
I just don't think they necessarily need an ENTIRE WEEKEND OF TEAMS WE DON'T GIVE A RIP ABOUT.
I have a TV noise headache.
I'm reading a really cool book though (dangerous in January considering the content):
Thursday, January 04, 2007
A Bit of Sanity
Posted: November 20, 2006 1:00 a.m. Eastern By Craig R. Smith C 2006
The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true given the source, right? The same magazine that employs Michael (Qurans in the toilets at Gitmo) Isikoff. Here I promised myself this week I would be nice and I start off in this way.
The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the president. In essence 2/3s of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.
So being the knuckle dragger I am, I starting thinking, ''What we are so unhappy about?''
Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter? Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?
Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state? Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter? I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough. Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all involved. Whether you are rich or poor they treat your wounds and even, if necessary, send a helicopter to take you to the hospital.
Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home, you may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of having a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings. Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes; an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss. This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers.
How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world? Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy.
Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S. yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here.
I know, I know. What about the president who took us into war and has no plan to get us out? The president who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same president who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The president that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled brats safe from terrorist attacks? The commander in chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me?
Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go. They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig.
So why then the flat out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds it leads and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells. Just ask why they are going to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book and do a TV special about how he didn't kill his wife but if he did . insane!
Stop buying the negative venom you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.
I close with one of my favorite quotes from B.C. Forbes in 1953:
''What have Americans to be thankful for? More than any other people on the earth, we enjoy complete religious freedom, political freedom, social freedom. Our liberties are sacredly safeguarded by the Constitution of the United States, 'the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man.' Yes, we Americans of today have been bequeathed a noble heritage. Let us pray that we may hand it down unsullied to our children and theirs.''
I suggest we sit back and count our blessings for all we have. If we don't, what we have will be taken away. Then we will have to explain to future generations why we squandered such blessing and abundance. If we are not careful this generation will be known as the ''greediest and most ungrateful generation.'' A far cry from the proud Americans of the ''greatest generation'' who left us an untarnished legacy.
The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true given the source, right? The same magazine that employs Michael (Qurans in the toilets at Gitmo) Isikoff. Here I promised myself this week I would be nice and I start off in this way.
The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the president. In essence 2/3s of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.
So being the knuckle dragger I am, I starting thinking, ''What we are so unhappy about?''
Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter? Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?
Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state? Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter? I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough. Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all involved. Whether you are rich or poor they treat your wounds and even, if necessary, send a helicopter to take you to the hospital.
Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home, you may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of having a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings. Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes; an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss. This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers.
How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world? Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy.
Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S. yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here.
I know, I know. What about the president who took us into war and has no plan to get us out? The president who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same president who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The president that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled brats safe from terrorist attacks? The commander in chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me?
Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go. They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig.
So why then the flat out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds it leads and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells. Just ask why they are going to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book and do a TV special about how he didn't kill his wife but if he did . insane!
Stop buying the negative venom you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.
I close with one of my favorite quotes from B.C. Forbes in 1953:
''What have Americans to be thankful for? More than any other people on the earth, we enjoy complete religious freedom, political freedom, social freedom. Our liberties are sacredly safeguarded by the Constitution of the United States, 'the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man.' Yes, we Americans of today have been bequeathed a noble heritage. Let us pray that we may hand it down unsullied to our children and theirs.''
I suggest we sit back and count our blessings for all we have. If we don't, what we have will be taken away. Then we will have to explain to future generations why we squandered such blessing and abundance. If we are not careful this generation will be known as the ''greediest and most ungrateful generation.'' A far cry from the proud Americans of the ''greatest generation'' who left us an untarnished legacy.
Value of Babies
**before you read this, I now know details and they are this. Miscommunication happens. Especially when you get the story third hand. But when one guy tells the next guy that they got a weird call and the next guy says "oh I heard about that on TV this morning" so guy number one calls gets a call from his friend in the middle of trying to figure out what has to be done and tells his friend that he will call back after he takes care of calling the police....well, you get the picture. No dumpster baby. Not yesterday, anyway. But the thought is still disturbing so I thought I'd leave the post. C-J
I'm distraught this morning. A friend of ours owns a business establishment that got a "prank call" Tuesday night about a baby in a dumpster. There was a dead baby found yesterday morning.
Those details are pretty sketchy. I know that. Like, was the baby found in their dumpster or halfway across the city? What did the caller say? Do they get calls like this often? And our friend is pretty bound up in calls to the police for us to get more details yet.
My first reaction, right after the wretching that my stomach insisted upon doing, was anger at the guy who answered the phone. Was he so busy he couldn't peek into the dumpster out back and make sure it didn't hold a crying baby?
My second reaction is anger at the mother. We live in a day and time when she could drop that baby at any fire station or hospital and walk away. At the very least, a doorstep. Why a dumpster? Why are children so disregarded we put them out with the garbage? And, come on, have some originality? Does this have to happen twice a year?
Hubs says "drugs." Or that maybe the baby was already dead (and mom didn't want any questions) and checking wouldn't have saved it and we don't yet know if it was their dumpster or one across town and this is just a weird coincidence.
I'm just disturbed regardless of the answers.
You know what I was doing Tuesday? I was on the web looking at children who need a home, and hoping to provide it sooner than later. I know that I am a little wacky that way. Not everyone is like me and I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is that either myself or one of my sisters would have taken that baby in. And I know there are thousand of others who would have as well.
So why the dumpster?
I'm distraught this morning. A friend of ours owns a business establishment that got a "prank call" Tuesday night about a baby in a dumpster. There was a dead baby found yesterday morning.
Those details are pretty sketchy. I know that. Like, was the baby found in their dumpster or halfway across the city? What did the caller say? Do they get calls like this often? And our friend is pretty bound up in calls to the police for us to get more details yet.
My first reaction, right after the wretching that my stomach insisted upon doing, was anger at the guy who answered the phone. Was he so busy he couldn't peek into the dumpster out back and make sure it didn't hold a crying baby?
My second reaction is anger at the mother. We live in a day and time when she could drop that baby at any fire station or hospital and walk away. At the very least, a doorstep. Why a dumpster? Why are children so disregarded we put them out with the garbage? And, come on, have some originality? Does this have to happen twice a year?
Hubs says "drugs." Or that maybe the baby was already dead (and mom didn't want any questions) and checking wouldn't have saved it and we don't yet know if it was their dumpster or one across town and this is just a weird coincidence.
I'm just disturbed regardless of the answers.
You know what I was doing Tuesday? I was on the web looking at children who need a home, and hoping to provide it sooner than later. I know that I am a little wacky that way. Not everyone is like me and I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is that either myself or one of my sisters would have taken that baby in. And I know there are thousand of others who would have as well.
So why the dumpster?
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
And now resuming life...
My poor children suffer from disorganized mama syndrome. I've been on holiday so stinkin' long I'm not even sure I'm capable of parenting again. But as of today at shortly after 3 pm I officially am back on real time with real obligations.
Never mind my kids started school yesterday (no they haven't made it on time yet).
This afternoon I did dishes. You wouldn't think that would be newsworthy, but I guarantee that it is. And it was somewhat fun. You know you have been gone too long when dishes are anything but torture.
I also made bread. And I flat whipped through it. And then we ate a loaf for supper because I didn't have the time nor the inclination to cook anything else. Hopefully tomorrow.
But how bout them Chiefs?
I hear that Vegas gave them 1:161 odds of making the playoffs. How I wish I was a betting girl and had a spare grand to lay on those odds! Though I have to admit that I saw enough football and cared about enough games on Sunday that if I wasn't dedicated, boy, I'd be ticked off at Hubs. As it was I was cheering on those Steelers, 49ers and Patriots. And Chiefs, of course which is all I care about anyway.
And now I'm wondering why I logged on to blog. All those interesting topics I had to write about back in the days when blogger wouldn't let me on...wasted. Hopefully my energy level will return and with it some semblance of a personality.
Never mind my kids started school yesterday (no they haven't made it on time yet).
This afternoon I did dishes. You wouldn't think that would be newsworthy, but I guarantee that it is. And it was somewhat fun. You know you have been gone too long when dishes are anything but torture.
I also made bread. And I flat whipped through it. And then we ate a loaf for supper because I didn't have the time nor the inclination to cook anything else. Hopefully tomorrow.
But how bout them Chiefs?
I hear that Vegas gave them 1:161 odds of making the playoffs. How I wish I was a betting girl and had a spare grand to lay on those odds! Though I have to admit that I saw enough football and cared about enough games on Sunday that if I wasn't dedicated, boy, I'd be ticked off at Hubs. As it was I was cheering on those Steelers, 49ers and Patriots. And Chiefs, of course which is all I care about anyway.
And now I'm wondering why I logged on to blog. All those interesting topics I had to write about back in the days when blogger wouldn't let me on...wasted. Hopefully my energy level will return and with it some semblance of a personality.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
It's A Miracle!
Blogger let me on! Granted, it is almost 11pm on New Years Eve and the rest of the planet is out doing something lively and NOT in front of a computer screen, but still....
So, shock and amazement, we are having a boy. I should have known. I took a gigantic leap of faith and wrote articles and stuff about how I was so sure that God wanted me to have another girl so it was destined that I would be pregnant with a boy. I am now three for three in Very Wrong About Gender. I give women's intuition a really bad name.
On the other hand, my Hubs is a great dad of sons, therefore this is boy will be an awesome man of God.
Now for a name...because the one that "God gave me" is totally inappropriate considering the plumbing.
I have three more days that constitute holiday in my house so I'll be sparse and short, but hopefully I'll be back "ON" soon.
So, shock and amazement, we are having a boy. I should have known. I took a gigantic leap of faith and wrote articles and stuff about how I was so sure that God wanted me to have another girl so it was destined that I would be pregnant with a boy. I am now three for three in Very Wrong About Gender. I give women's intuition a really bad name.
On the other hand, my Hubs is a great dad of sons, therefore this is boy will be an awesome man of God.
Now for a name...because the one that "God gave me" is totally inappropriate considering the plumbing.
I have three more days that constitute holiday in my house so I'll be sparse and short, but hopefully I'll be back "ON" soon.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Sleeping Through It
I keep having dreams that I have slept through an important event in this baby's life. First I dreamed that I slept through the labor and delivery (which was apparently hard) and the baby was a boy. Considering I thought it should be a girl, I didn't believe them that the baby presented was mine.
And last night I dreamed that I fell asleep in the sonogram. In my dream they did all these preliminary things...not only on me but everyone in the room (my children, Hubs and one random teenager from my church). I fell asleep while they were doing samples on the others. Apparently so did the sonographer. We both woke up just as the appointment was over. I demanded a quick look where she showed me a very bizarre shot of the baby's brain and then kicked me out.
What I want to know is considering the trouble I have sleeping these days, how on earth when I do sleep, do I dream of sleeping through important events?
Any dream interpreters out there?
And last night I dreamed that I fell asleep in the sonogram. In my dream they did all these preliminary things...not only on me but everyone in the room (my children, Hubs and one random teenager from my church). I fell asleep while they were doing samples on the others. Apparently so did the sonographer. We both woke up just as the appointment was over. I demanded a quick look where she showed me a very bizarre shot of the baby's brain and then kicked me out.
What I want to know is considering the trouble I have sleeping these days, how on earth when I do sleep, do I dream of sleeping through important events?
Any dream interpreters out there?
Friday, December 15, 2006
Oh, my good heavens...blogger let me on. Granted, it took more than an hour to get to the posting site once I opened blogger, but I didn't get an error page! Hubs tells me that it is because I have Explorer 7 and my last computer had 6 and he refuses to take me backwards in time. I have to use Firefox. Whatever. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
So, I'm a freak.
I knew I was a bit of a freak. I'm a freak in my family: they are all melancholy and I'm sanguine. They homeschool. I don't. They don't eat sugar.....And I'M the freak. (she chuckles)
So my family is just enough strange to make me feel somewhat "normal" and then I go to Hub's company Christmas thing.
(insert maniacal laughter here)
Oh. My. Gosh.
I'm a total freak. I've been in my little social circle for so long that I've forgotten how totally freakish I really am.
Seriously. I could console myself with the idea that they are the freaks and I'm the normal one, but come on, even I don't believe it. So, instead, I'll continue to dance around my house singing the eighties "She's a Freak" song until the shock of it all wears off.
Just finished Rene Gutteridge's "Scoop." It was a fun little read.
So, I'm a freak.
I knew I was a bit of a freak. I'm a freak in my family: they are all melancholy and I'm sanguine. They homeschool. I don't. They don't eat sugar.....And I'M the freak. (she chuckles)
So my family is just enough strange to make me feel somewhat "normal" and then I go to Hub's company Christmas thing.
(insert maniacal laughter here)
Oh. My. Gosh.
I'm a total freak. I've been in my little social circle for so long that I've forgotten how totally freakish I really am.
Seriously. I could console myself with the idea that they are the freaks and I'm the normal one, but come on, even I don't believe it. So, instead, I'll continue to dance around my house singing the eighties "She's a Freak" song until the shock of it all wears off.
Just finished Rene Gutteridge's "Scoop." It was a fun little read.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A Walking Reminder
I promise it isn't me. I can only get on blogger about twice a week these days. Maybe it is the new computer? Someone doesn't like my cookies.
Any-hoo---
A good friend of mine miscarried last weekend. I hate that. It makes me angry. I hate that there is usually nothing that can be done when it happens. But,
She and her husband are strong. I have heard enough of the story to know that they are doing as okay as they can spiritually, emotionally, physically and they will get past this. So for a moment I'm going to go into the all-about-me mode.
The poor girl had to spend four out of the last eight days with me. Four in a row. Me, in all my shining, glowing, blooming, undeniable in-the-family-way glory.
I've been on that side of it. I've miscarried and listenend to some pregnant woman complain about how tired, hungry, or swollen she is. And I'd wonder why she couldn't tone it down. (In my case it was usually because she had no idea.)
I have such a hard time on my side of things. By my 31 years I've suffered three years of infertility. More than one miscarriage. A lot of hopelessness. A lot of hope. I've had the opportunity to adopt and I love it. I want to adopt again. I've been miraculously healed. And now I can get pregnant at the drop of the hat (or whenever God tells me to which is, of course, the preferable method). So I understand both sides of the equation.
I know how annoying it is to see pregnant women when you want to be and can't. I understand how annoying it is to hear pregnant women gripe about the side effects. I understand how annoying it can be to hear moms complain about their bad days.
And I totally get how hard it is to guard your every word around people that are having trouble. Or to not feel free to express the diffuculties of parenting. Or to not feel that adoption is sometimes a stinking lot easier (even though in the throes of it, it didn't feel that way).
So anyway, I'm suffering a guilt complex because I know I'm a walking reminder of what a lot of people want this season and can't have. So I find myself trying to hide behind a coat or big clothes and pretend that I am not blessed indeed. Which I think is again closing myself off.
Sigh.
Any-hoo---
A good friend of mine miscarried last weekend. I hate that. It makes me angry. I hate that there is usually nothing that can be done when it happens. But,
She and her husband are strong. I have heard enough of the story to know that they are doing as okay as they can spiritually, emotionally, physically and they will get past this. So for a moment I'm going to go into the all-about-me mode.
The poor girl had to spend four out of the last eight days with me. Four in a row. Me, in all my shining, glowing, blooming, undeniable in-the-family-way glory.
I've been on that side of it. I've miscarried and listenend to some pregnant woman complain about how tired, hungry, or swollen she is. And I'd wonder why she couldn't tone it down. (In my case it was usually because she had no idea.)
I have such a hard time on my side of things. By my 31 years I've suffered three years of infertility. More than one miscarriage. A lot of hopelessness. A lot of hope. I've had the opportunity to adopt and I love it. I want to adopt again. I've been miraculously healed. And now I can get pregnant at the drop of the hat (or whenever God tells me to which is, of course, the preferable method). So I understand both sides of the equation.
I know how annoying it is to see pregnant women when you want to be and can't. I understand how annoying it is to hear pregnant women gripe about the side effects. I understand how annoying it can be to hear moms complain about their bad days.
And I totally get how hard it is to guard your every word around people that are having trouble. Or to not feel free to express the diffuculties of parenting. Or to not feel that adoption is sometimes a stinking lot easier (even though in the throes of it, it didn't feel that way).
So anyway, I'm suffering a guilt complex because I know I'm a walking reminder of what a lot of people want this season and can't have. So I find myself trying to hide behind a coat or big clothes and pretend that I am not blessed indeed. Which I think is again closing myself off.
Sigh.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Best Friends
Yesterday was one of those days where so many things came clear. For years I've complained that I'm lonely and I can't tell Hubs why. It isn't that I can't find someone to spend time with or that I don't have plenty to do. But on those days when I am just at odds with myself I feel like there is no one to call. But yesterday I figured it out.
I'm no one's go-to person.
I'm a great call-in-a-crunch person. I'm a great pinch babysitter. Go to piano recital with not much notice person. Bring a snack to a meeting that starts in 30 minutes person. Offer my home to host something when the original host got sick person. But no one calls me in the throes of a real crisis. I'm usually on the list. I'm often in the lineup of "let Jamie know, okay?" I ALMOST always find out when the crisis has passed but before it is mentioned in passing at the next gathering. Friends, family, you name it.
And this is a problem why? Because that leaves me with no one to call when I'm having a crisis. Like the person on the other end of the line is wondering why I called them. Part of my problem is that the person I would call my go-to person has become a lot of people's go-to person and she doesn't need anymore people caling her with a crisis. My second go-to who has become my go-to has more on her plate than I can even imagine so my stuff seems so petty. But part of it is that you can only be brutally honest with someone so many times without reciprocation before you start feeling naked at a party.
So last night Hubs and I were trying to figure out why neither of us was anyone's emotional go-to person (because everyone will come to him to solve a technical problem). We decided we must be holding ourselves emotinally unavailable. But I don't know how to be any more emotionally available. I don't keep an immacualte house. I don't have perfect children. Heaven knows I don't look the part of perfection, ever. I confess my failings. I send out invites like crazy. but there must be some part of my make up that says "not available." How many times do you tell a people "stop by anytime" "come over in the morning for coffee" "if you need a nap, please call me to watch you squirt" "I have been there...if you need to talk, I promise not to speak" before you just pack it in and quit?
That wasn't a rhetorical question.
And is there any way to get out of this place I'm stuck without just moving to another town, church, whatever and starting over?
I'm no one's go-to person.
I'm a great call-in-a-crunch person. I'm a great pinch babysitter. Go to piano recital with not much notice person. Bring a snack to a meeting that starts in 30 minutes person. Offer my home to host something when the original host got sick person. But no one calls me in the throes of a real crisis. I'm usually on the list. I'm often in the lineup of "let Jamie know, okay?" I ALMOST always find out when the crisis has passed but before it is mentioned in passing at the next gathering. Friends, family, you name it.
And this is a problem why? Because that leaves me with no one to call when I'm having a crisis. Like the person on the other end of the line is wondering why I called them. Part of my problem is that the person I would call my go-to person has become a lot of people's go-to person and she doesn't need anymore people caling her with a crisis. My second go-to who has become my go-to has more on her plate than I can even imagine so my stuff seems so petty. But part of it is that you can only be brutally honest with someone so many times without reciprocation before you start feeling naked at a party.
So last night Hubs and I were trying to figure out why neither of us was anyone's emotional go-to person (because everyone will come to him to solve a technical problem). We decided we must be holding ourselves emotinally unavailable. But I don't know how to be any more emotionally available. I don't keep an immacualte house. I don't have perfect children. Heaven knows I don't look the part of perfection, ever. I confess my failings. I send out invites like crazy. but there must be some part of my make up that says "not available." How many times do you tell a people "stop by anytime" "come over in the morning for coffee" "if you need a nap, please call me to watch you squirt" "I have been there...if you need to talk, I promise not to speak" before you just pack it in and quit?
That wasn't a rhetorical question.
And is there any way to get out of this place I'm stuck without just moving to another town, church, whatever and starting over?
I had an eloquent post...
one keystroke and 99% of my post was deleted. What happened? No clue. Hating either Blogger or my new-to-me computer right now.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Integrity
I'm tired of people. We are so fallible. And so annoying.
So today I got an email from someone who purchased an audiobook from me through Amazon. The book was on CD. The CDs were in "like new" condition when they left my home.
Apparently the box is all smushed, the sleeve is all dusty and the CDs are all scratched. Tell me, when CDs are in sleeves and the box is in a padded envelope, how this could happen?
Yes, the box could have been smushed. I don't question that. But there is no way that CDs in a sleeve could get scratched without the envelope tearing (and being run over by a car). Could there be A SCRATCH? I suppose. But I thought i ckecked them over pretty carefully. I am a nonconfrontational person. I don't like being questioned so I go overboard to please, to give the absolute truth.
So it is this person's work against mine. Lovely huh?
I had the stupid CDs less than a week. I got them new. Listened once. Didn't think I'd ever listen again. Listed them and sold them. If the sleeves are dusty, it is because they came that way. Cardboard has fillaments that flake off. I'm sorry. There is no way to prevent that.
So my mind starts questioning this person's integrity. Does this person just want a free CD series and see me as a conduit? If I question the condition, it isn't like they can't scratch it up before sending it back. And then it is ruined for me anyway.
All for the sake of $20. That's it. I'm done. I'll just keep my books. People can buy new. Take it up with the publisher.
So today I got an email from someone who purchased an audiobook from me through Amazon. The book was on CD. The CDs were in "like new" condition when they left my home.
Apparently the box is all smushed, the sleeve is all dusty and the CDs are all scratched. Tell me, when CDs are in sleeves and the box is in a padded envelope, how this could happen?
Yes, the box could have been smushed. I don't question that. But there is no way that CDs in a sleeve could get scratched without the envelope tearing (and being run over by a car). Could there be A SCRATCH? I suppose. But I thought i ckecked them over pretty carefully. I am a nonconfrontational person. I don't like being questioned so I go overboard to please, to give the absolute truth.
So it is this person's work against mine. Lovely huh?
I had the stupid CDs less than a week. I got them new. Listened once. Didn't think I'd ever listen again. Listed them and sold them. If the sleeves are dusty, it is because they came that way. Cardboard has fillaments that flake off. I'm sorry. There is no way to prevent that.
So my mind starts questioning this person's integrity. Does this person just want a free CD series and see me as a conduit? If I question the condition, it isn't like they can't scratch it up before sending it back. And then it is ruined for me anyway.
All for the sake of $20. That's it. I'm done. I'll just keep my books. People can buy new. Take it up with the publisher.
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