For the past month or so, I have been having a really hard time sleeping. Mostly, it is on the days that I don't run, which is a good incentive to continue my marathon training. However, if I take a break for my body to rest, my mind does not seem to take the hint and rest as well. It is currently 3:14 am. I have read enough of the 4th Twilight book to last me for awhile, and Mike is in bed snoring away.
That is another problem. Does anyone else have a significant other that snores? Right when you think you are about to fall into a perfect dream, the MAC truck beside you wakes you up. My father snores so loudly, I used to be able to hear him in the other room. I am not sure how my mother is still sleeping in their bedroom 34 years later. Don't worry, Mike and I have tried all the suggestions. Just believe me when I tell you that earplugs do not make a bit of difference. I almost bought him a pillow for his birthday from Brookstone that is supposed to cure snoring. (Really it would have been a present for me.) The only problem is, the ratings for how it works are all over the place. I just couldn't make myself spend $100 unless I was absolutely sure that the snoring would cease. If anyone has used one, I would love to know how that worked out for you.
Mike also does this super fun thing where he falls asleep (and is snoring) so I turn the television off. A few minutes later, I hear, "Hey! I was watching that!" Really? Were you really? So he turns the tv back on and is snoring within 3 minutes. I just turned the tv off for the 3rd time and came out to the living room to try to entertain myself. I can hear still hear him snoring. Poor thing - the only reason he doesn't have a pillow over his head right now is because I think he is getting sick.
And then I have a secret. When Mike is working late, and I go to bed by myself, I still sleep with the bear my grandmother made me when I was two. Lovingly named "Dead Bear" this animal is such a comfort to me. He no longer has eyes, or a nose and his ear is falling off. He also has cotton coming out of random places, (like his throat) but he has been through a lot and is truly loved. He also fits perfectly in the nook of my elbow, which Mike does not. My sweet boyfriend (Mike)tried to buy me a new bear one Valentine's Day (we were going out of town so flowers would have died and I don't really like chocolate.) Anyway, it was like trying to buy someone a new pet after theirs has just passed away. Although I did try to sleep with it, this new "Bandit Bear" (it has a mask like Zorro) just wasn't the same. Poor guy sits on the shelf in our closet. Regardless though, three's kind of a crowd if I try to bring Dead Bear into the bed when Mike and I go to bed at the same time. I may go grab him anyway at this point, I really don't think Mike will notice.
But back to the insomnia. Not sleeping is miserable. You look at the clock and realize that everyone else in the world will be getting up in just a few hours. The good thing is that I have no place to be the next day, so I do have the luxury of sleeping in, but then I can't fall asleep the next night. It is a vicious cycle. My grandmother always tells me when she has trouble sleeping, she gets up and paces. I actually do feel like going for a run right now, so maybe I will do a little pacing. But then, doesn't that get your blood flowing? It is a no win situation. Hope you are all getting a good night's sleep - I will let you know how this all works out tomorrow.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Just Call Me Dr. Jenny
Last night I kept waking up because I was dreaming of vampires coming after me. Did anyone else have this problem while they were reading the Twilight series or do I just have an extremely overactive imagination? How do they let teenagers read such disturbing stuff? Anyway, as I was trying to think happy thoughts and lull myself back to sleep, I started thinking about what I wanted to blog about next. (This also keeps me up at night. Clearly, I do not have enough going on during the day.) I finally settled on a subject.
Growing up with my father as a doctor resulted in several things. First, it was very convenient to have him around. We rarely made trips to the ER or the doctor unless something was pretty serious. My mom is kind of a hypochondriac like me, so without my dad, we probably would have been there a lot more often. I remember cutting my hand in our front yard when I was two or three, "helping" my mom pull weeks. I cut my hand on a piece of glass and had a flap of skin hanging off my palm and bleeding profusely. I ran inside to show my dad, and he simply took a pair of scissors and cut off the flap. I little hydrogen peroxide, a band-aid, and I was apparently good to go. I still have a very odd shaped scar on my hand, but it makes for a good story.
Another thing that I adopted growing up with my father as a physician is that I began to believe that I also had the knowledge of an MD. Even now, if I tell someone with enough conviction what their diagnosis is, they believe me. Now, before I get hate mail, I am well aware that I am not a doctor and have not put in the intensive hours and labor that is required of an MD. I am just letting you know what goes on in my mind.
I was pre-med for 2 years in college. That whole organic chemistry thing weeded me out, like the majority of people on our class. Blood never bothered me and I knew somehow (aside from not being able to pass the classes) that I would one day be a doctor. I do have a little problem though that we discovered in high school. Every time I give blood, I pass out and have a minor seizure. Don't worry, all the tests have been done - I am totally fine. But it is really bizarre. Can you imagine fainting and seizing in the gym at your high school?? So embarrassing.
I first believed that this one a one time thing, until I went to the doctor because I had esophagitis. (That is a hole in your esophagus. I am telling you, only me.) After my blood was drawn, I went into the waiting room to meet my mom. The room went blurry and I slumped down the wall as my mom was paying for the visit. So now we know. I have some sort of fear of needles, or anxiety about having my blood drawn. I try to warn people when I have to give blood now. "I am going to faint and I am going to have a slight seizure. Don't freak out and just slap me a few times to wake me up." No one believes me and then I wake up with their faces full of fear and anxiety. I want to say, "I told you this would happen!"
I tried to give blood in college, but made sure to explain to the admissions lady that I did have a problem with needles. She sent me right back out the little bus door, telling me that it was more trouble than it was worth to get my blood if I was going to be seizing all over the place. So now I just try to contribute in other ways that do not involve hospitals or holes in my arm.
Needless to say, I am not a doctor. I use my persuasive powers for other things, hopefully one day in a court room. I still take someone with me every time I know my blood needs to be drawn. A friend of mine told me I am going to be in trouble when I get pregnant because they draw your blood all the time. Even though that is FAR into the future, that will probably be something that I worry about as I try to sleep tonight!
Growing up with my father as a doctor resulted in several things. First, it was very convenient to have him around. We rarely made trips to the ER or the doctor unless something was pretty serious. My mom is kind of a hypochondriac like me, so without my dad, we probably would have been there a lot more often. I remember cutting my hand in our front yard when I was two or three, "helping" my mom pull weeks. I cut my hand on a piece of glass and had a flap of skin hanging off my palm and bleeding profusely. I ran inside to show my dad, and he simply took a pair of scissors and cut off the flap. I little hydrogen peroxide, a band-aid, and I was apparently good to go. I still have a very odd shaped scar on my hand, but it makes for a good story.
Another thing that I adopted growing up with my father as a physician is that I began to believe that I also had the knowledge of an MD. Even now, if I tell someone with enough conviction what their diagnosis is, they believe me. Now, before I get hate mail, I am well aware that I am not a doctor and have not put in the intensive hours and labor that is required of an MD. I am just letting you know what goes on in my mind.
I was pre-med for 2 years in college. That whole organic chemistry thing weeded me out, like the majority of people on our class. Blood never bothered me and I knew somehow (aside from not being able to pass the classes) that I would one day be a doctor. I do have a little problem though that we discovered in high school. Every time I give blood, I pass out and have a minor seizure. Don't worry, all the tests have been done - I am totally fine. But it is really bizarre. Can you imagine fainting and seizing in the gym at your high school?? So embarrassing.
I first believed that this one a one time thing, until I went to the doctor because I had esophagitis. (That is a hole in your esophagus. I am telling you, only me.) After my blood was drawn, I went into the waiting room to meet my mom. The room went blurry and I slumped down the wall as my mom was paying for the visit. So now we know. I have some sort of fear of needles, or anxiety about having my blood drawn. I try to warn people when I have to give blood now. "I am going to faint and I am going to have a slight seizure. Don't freak out and just slap me a few times to wake me up." No one believes me and then I wake up with their faces full of fear and anxiety. I want to say, "I told you this would happen!"
I tried to give blood in college, but made sure to explain to the admissions lady that I did have a problem with needles. She sent me right back out the little bus door, telling me that it was more trouble than it was worth to get my blood if I was going to be seizing all over the place. So now I just try to contribute in other ways that do not involve hospitals or holes in my arm.
Needless to say, I am not a doctor. I use my persuasive powers for other things, hopefully one day in a court room. I still take someone with me every time I know my blood needs to be drawn. A friend of mine told me I am going to be in trouble when I get pregnant because they draw your blood all the time. Even though that is FAR into the future, that will probably be something that I worry about as I try to sleep tonight!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sick
I hate being sick. I know there are probably not many people that do enjoy it, but it really annoys me. I hate watching all the things I need to do pile up around me while I lay in the bed and sleep. My mom told me today, "Imagine adding three kids to that mix." Good point.
Ever since I went to that wedding last week, I have been feeling a little off. I usually pick up some sort of virus on planes - I think I have a weak immune system. Regardless, I went about my business until yesterday. I went for what was supposed to be my "long" run and only got through half of it before I thought my legs were going to fall out from under me. By the time I got home I was exhausted. I showered, got back in the bed and pretty much slept all day. And all of today.
I am such a brat when I am sick. I called my parents this afternoon to whine and when I didn't get any sympathy from my dad (he told me about the new batch of beer he was making) I asked to speak to my mom. I started whining to her and she started talking to me about the new Scientific American article she was reading. Doesn't anybody feel sorry for me?? I think at times like this they may be glad I live 7 hours away!
Poor Mike. He gets the brunt of it. Aside from being a brat (when I am sick :-)) I am also a hypochondriac. I am the girl that used to get a headache when I was ten and was absolutely sure that I had a brain tumor. (They were really bad headaches!) Today I informed Mike that my mother read in her Scientific American magazine (that subscription has to go) that cats are able to sense when someone is about to die. I was freaking out because my sweet cat (whose sense seems to be a little off) would not leave me side. Personally, I think my cat realized I was not feeling well and was trying to comfort me.
Once I started to feel better today I realized that I had not eaten in 24 hours and was ravenous. Mike calls me the bulldog when I do not have enough sugar in my system and the bulldog, although sick, was coming out. Of course there was nothing in the fridge that I wanted to eat, except the orange juice that he went out and got me last night. So I kindly (yeah right) suggested that he go to the grocery store to get me some of their homemade soups. No matter that we have a billion cans of chicken noodle soup in the cupboard for just this sort of instance. I wanted the tomato gazpacho. He went! I know that I should not be rewarded for bratty behavior, and I did apologize for the fit I threw. I am also trying to catch up on some laundry and ironing to make up for my negative actions.
But now I am tired again. I have watched all the "Say Yes to the Dress" recordings that we have on the DVR and am trying to figure out if I have enough energy to read my book. Hopefully I will be feeling better tomorrow and poor Mike will have his "normal" acting girlfriend back.
Ever since I went to that wedding last week, I have been feeling a little off. I usually pick up some sort of virus on planes - I think I have a weak immune system. Regardless, I went about my business until yesterday. I went for what was supposed to be my "long" run and only got through half of it before I thought my legs were going to fall out from under me. By the time I got home I was exhausted. I showered, got back in the bed and pretty much slept all day. And all of today.
I am such a brat when I am sick. I called my parents this afternoon to whine and when I didn't get any sympathy from my dad (he told me about the new batch of beer he was making) I asked to speak to my mom. I started whining to her and she started talking to me about the new Scientific American article she was reading. Doesn't anybody feel sorry for me?? I think at times like this they may be glad I live 7 hours away!
Poor Mike. He gets the brunt of it. Aside from being a brat (when I am sick :-)) I am also a hypochondriac. I am the girl that used to get a headache when I was ten and was absolutely sure that I had a brain tumor. (They were really bad headaches!) Today I informed Mike that my mother read in her Scientific American magazine (that subscription has to go) that cats are able to sense when someone is about to die. I was freaking out because my sweet cat (whose sense seems to be a little off) would not leave me side. Personally, I think my cat realized I was not feeling well and was trying to comfort me.
Once I started to feel better today I realized that I had not eaten in 24 hours and was ravenous. Mike calls me the bulldog when I do not have enough sugar in my system and the bulldog, although sick, was coming out. Of course there was nothing in the fridge that I wanted to eat, except the orange juice that he went out and got me last night. So I kindly (yeah right) suggested that he go to the grocery store to get me some of their homemade soups. No matter that we have a billion cans of chicken noodle soup in the cupboard for just this sort of instance. I wanted the tomato gazpacho. He went! I know that I should not be rewarded for bratty behavior, and I did apologize for the fit I threw. I am also trying to catch up on some laundry and ironing to make up for my negative actions.
But now I am tired again. I have watched all the "Say Yes to the Dress" recordings that we have on the DVR and am trying to figure out if I have enough energy to read my book. Hopefully I will be feeling better tomorrow and poor Mike will have his "normal" acting girlfriend back.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
I Have Discovered a Flaw
So I have been reading the Twilight series. I know, it is embarrassing, and I have to go to the Teen section to purchase these books (with my head down) but they are true entertainment. For those of you who are not familiar with these books, (Dad) basically, an 18 year old falls desperately in love with a boy who turns out to be a 100 year old vampire. Oh yeah. She also loves another boy who ends up being a werewolf. Although this sounds ridiculous, and I swore up and down that I would never read them, I have given in, and cannot stop turning the pages!
However, I have discovered a problem, which seems to be a trend in most romantic stories. In cased you haven't noticed, all the passionate words that the handsome, perfect man says in these books do not happen in real life! I read a passage from Twilight to Mike the other day and he rolled his eyes and started laughing. So why do grow up thinking that these things are true?
Now remember, I grew up with no brothers, and maybe that is part of my problem. We didn't watch G.I. Joe or Die Hard. We watched a lot of Disney cartoons where Cinderella and Prince Charming always fall in love and live happily ever after. Why didn't my mom say, "You know Jenny, they may be at the ball dancing, but it probably took him a few drinks to get out there. Most guys are not big dancers." Or perhaps in Beauty and the Beast, "Jenny, it looks as though that tea pot and all her animated china are doing the dishes, but that really is going to be Belle's job." Finally, Jasmine and Aladdin. Did anyone tell Jasmine that she will only be riding on that magic carpet a few times until she is sufficiently impressed? After that, those romantic nights above the clouds are probably going to be few and far between. (And seriously, that's probably the only song he's going to sing to her.)
I understand I sound a little pessimistic and callous here, but why are we teaching young girls that everything is going to turn out perfectly? Maybe I am the only one, but I grew up with this philosophy and then didn't understand what was going on when the fairy tale didn't end happily. But then you have to ask the question, can you have it both ways? I remember I dated a guy very briefly one summer during college. He always said those very sweet things that you want the guy to say, and it drove me crazy! He even brought me a carved rose because that way, "It would never die. Just like his feelings for me." Ugh. My mother thought this was so sweet and was probably planning our wedding while I dumped that flower in the trash. I think I started avoiding his phone calls after that.
Also, do not think that this is an attack against Mike. Without getting mushy, I think he is a great mix between sweet and normal. I personally have to have some sort of balance. I guess that's why they say the nice guys always finish last. If Mike had constantly showered me with compliments and gifts when we first started dating, we probably have broken up a long time ago. However, if he started this behavior now....it would be a whole other story. I might even do the dishes without grumbling. It's a catch-22.
So in the future, my children will watch Disney movies and read romance novels, if they so choose. I will then sit down and talk with them about where the fantasy ends and the reality begins. Maybe this way, the adjustment to real love will not be as confusing!
However, I have discovered a problem, which seems to be a trend in most romantic stories. In cased you haven't noticed, all the passionate words that the handsome, perfect man says in these books do not happen in real life! I read a passage from Twilight to Mike the other day and he rolled his eyes and started laughing. So why do grow up thinking that these things are true?
Now remember, I grew up with no brothers, and maybe that is part of my problem. We didn't watch G.I. Joe or Die Hard. We watched a lot of Disney cartoons where Cinderella and Prince Charming always fall in love and live happily ever after. Why didn't my mom say, "You know Jenny, they may be at the ball dancing, but it probably took him a few drinks to get out there. Most guys are not big dancers." Or perhaps in Beauty and the Beast, "Jenny, it looks as though that tea pot and all her animated china are doing the dishes, but that really is going to be Belle's job." Finally, Jasmine and Aladdin. Did anyone tell Jasmine that she will only be riding on that magic carpet a few times until she is sufficiently impressed? After that, those romantic nights above the clouds are probably going to be few and far between. (And seriously, that's probably the only song he's going to sing to her.)
I understand I sound a little pessimistic and callous here, but why are we teaching young girls that everything is going to turn out perfectly? Maybe I am the only one, but I grew up with this philosophy and then didn't understand what was going on when the fairy tale didn't end happily. But then you have to ask the question, can you have it both ways? I remember I dated a guy very briefly one summer during college. He always said those very sweet things that you want the guy to say, and it drove me crazy! He even brought me a carved rose because that way, "It would never die. Just like his feelings for me." Ugh. My mother thought this was so sweet and was probably planning our wedding while I dumped that flower in the trash. I think I started avoiding his phone calls after that.
Also, do not think that this is an attack against Mike. Without getting mushy, I think he is a great mix between sweet and normal. I personally have to have some sort of balance. I guess that's why they say the nice guys always finish last. If Mike had constantly showered me with compliments and gifts when we first started dating, we probably have broken up a long time ago. However, if he started this behavior now....it would be a whole other story. I might even do the dishes without grumbling. It's a catch-22.
So in the future, my children will watch Disney movies and read romance novels, if they so choose. I will then sit down and talk with them about where the fantasy ends and the reality begins. Maybe this way, the adjustment to real love will not be as confusing!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Promise Ring
Before I start, may I tell you that I just watched Mike vacuum our deck? I asked him to please empty the filter of the vacuum, so he took it outside to keep dust from flying everywhere. The next thing I knew, the vacuum was on and my living room was not getting cleaned. Then he says, "See, if you get bored, you can always vacuum out here!" Thanks. I will make sure I put THAT on my to do list.
Ok. Back to the title of this blog. I love jewelry. Cheap, expensive, really anything that sparkles, I will wear on my body. Mike says that I am like a bird that looks for sparkly things to go in my nest. Last year I was really into necklaces and bracelets. The only thing that I am kind of weird about is rings. Here is my philosophy. You really only have two fingers that you can wear a ring on. I know people wear rings on their middle fingers, but my hands are sort of short and stubby, so I have never done that. I got a ring from my parents when I graduated from high school, and have not taken it off since then. It means a lot to me and I hope that in the future, maybe it will mean something to my children.
So, the other finger left is...the engagement ring finger. I have never worn anything on this finger because I do believe it shows that you are single, not "taken," - whatever. Even if you are dating someone, you don't have that final, legal commitment that a wedding band or engagement ring symbolizes. When I graduated from school last year, I asked for a pearl set from my parents. I thought it was very professional, and every girl needs a set of pearls. They got me a beautiful pearl necklace, earrings and bracelet. Then for my birthday, Mike bought me a pearl and diamond ring.
The point of the ring was to match the pearl set and because I had just borrowed one from his mother to wear to a wedding. He did not mean it in any other way than that. But I was having major problems. I didn't want to stop wearing the ring my parents gave me, but I didn't know how I felt about wearing this new ring on my left hand. Mike suggested that I switch out the rings on my right hand, but that defeats the purpose of wearing my parent's ring every day.
Finally, I talked to Mike's mother. She told me I should definitely wear this ring on my left hand because in "the old days" (her words) a pearl preceded a diamond in a relationship. I told Mike this and of course, he just rolled his eyes. I did not care, and got the ring sized for my left hand. Then I started reminding him that this was my promise ring, just because it drove him crazy.
Now, remember - I am clumsy. The sapphire that is on my right hand is chipped and apparently, sapphires are pretty solid stones. The jeweler asked what happened and I honestly didn't know. I just told her that I fall a lot, but she didn't seem impressed.
The other day as I was driving out of the garage, the pearl on my ring fell off. I was doing nothing - I promise! It literally fell into my lap. I called Mike, assured him that I was not doing anything clumsy and later showed him the ring. He was mad at the jeweler for "poor craftsmanship" and then suggested I super glue the ring back together. That is classy with a capital K. I haven't gotten back to the jeweler yet, and now that I have gotten used to not having the ring on my finger, I am not sure I am going to put it back. I may use it for special occasions and switch it out.
I told Mike this was a sign that I needed something more solid and durable on that ring finger. Girls - if you have been dating your boyfriend for less than 5 years, I am not sure that I would go this route. However, as we are in our 6th year of dating, I have no qualms talking about marriage and my upcoming engagement ring. I don't drop hints anymore because they don't seem to have worked.
For the time being, I am going to save the promise rings for all those love struck teenagers out there. I should be able to relate - I am reading Twilight!
Ok. Back to the title of this blog. I love jewelry. Cheap, expensive, really anything that sparkles, I will wear on my body. Mike says that I am like a bird that looks for sparkly things to go in my nest. Last year I was really into necklaces and bracelets. The only thing that I am kind of weird about is rings. Here is my philosophy. You really only have two fingers that you can wear a ring on. I know people wear rings on their middle fingers, but my hands are sort of short and stubby, so I have never done that. I got a ring from my parents when I graduated from high school, and have not taken it off since then. It means a lot to me and I hope that in the future, maybe it will mean something to my children.
So, the other finger left is...the engagement ring finger. I have never worn anything on this finger because I do believe it shows that you are single, not "taken," - whatever. Even if you are dating someone, you don't have that final, legal commitment that a wedding band or engagement ring symbolizes. When I graduated from school last year, I asked for a pearl set from my parents. I thought it was very professional, and every girl needs a set of pearls. They got me a beautiful pearl necklace, earrings and bracelet. Then for my birthday, Mike bought me a pearl and diamond ring.
The point of the ring was to match the pearl set and because I had just borrowed one from his mother to wear to a wedding. He did not mean it in any other way than that. But I was having major problems. I didn't want to stop wearing the ring my parents gave me, but I didn't know how I felt about wearing this new ring on my left hand. Mike suggested that I switch out the rings on my right hand, but that defeats the purpose of wearing my parent's ring every day.
Finally, I talked to Mike's mother. She told me I should definitely wear this ring on my left hand because in "the old days" (her words) a pearl preceded a diamond in a relationship. I told Mike this and of course, he just rolled his eyes. I did not care, and got the ring sized for my left hand. Then I started reminding him that this was my promise ring, just because it drove him crazy.
Now, remember - I am clumsy. The sapphire that is on my right hand is chipped and apparently, sapphires are pretty solid stones. The jeweler asked what happened and I honestly didn't know. I just told her that I fall a lot, but she didn't seem impressed.
The other day as I was driving out of the garage, the pearl on my ring fell off. I was doing nothing - I promise! It literally fell into my lap. I called Mike, assured him that I was not doing anything clumsy and later showed him the ring. He was mad at the jeweler for "poor craftsmanship" and then suggested I super glue the ring back together. That is classy with a capital K. I haven't gotten back to the jeweler yet, and now that I have gotten used to not having the ring on my finger, I am not sure I am going to put it back. I may use it for special occasions and switch it out.
I told Mike this was a sign that I needed something more solid and durable on that ring finger. Girls - if you have been dating your boyfriend for less than 5 years, I am not sure that I would go this route. However, as we are in our 6th year of dating, I have no qualms talking about marriage and my upcoming engagement ring. I don't drop hints anymore because they don't seem to have worked.
For the time being, I am going to save the promise rings for all those love struck teenagers out there. I should be able to relate - I am reading Twilight!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I'm Back!!
Dear Faithful Readers:
I am so sorry for the week long delay in my posting. I was surprised at how many people emailed me and asked when my next blog would be. I love it!! I have followers!!
So, the reason I have been MIA for the past week is that I left for South Carolina on Thursday to attend one of my good friend's weddings. I went to law school with the bride, but was introduced to her through one of my best friends from undergrad. Again, such a small world. So I flew into Charleston and my friend from college came to pick me up. I have to tell you, as soon as we landed and the humidity and 100 degree heat encompassed me, I was in love. I had never been to South Carolina, and instantly decided that I would be perfectly happy living there. (This is good because this is one of the places where Mike is hoping to get a job.) The boys were wearing seer sucker, opening doors and the southern accent was as strong as it could get. I couldn't stop smiling.
My friend and I "explored" Columbia until about 3 am. We had a blast. It was wonderful to see her and meet all of her friends. The next morning, we hopped in the car and headed to Florence, SC where the wedding was taking place. This wedding has been quite an ordeal. Initially, the bride wanted to get married in Wyoming, but the couple then decided to get married in Scotland. (I know, it was a little bizarre, but the groom has Scottish roots.) Had this worked out, I'm sure the ceremony and celebration would have been beautiful. Unfortunately, they realized that not very many people can afford a quick weekend trip to Scotland, so they settled on the bride's hometown of Florence.
We stayed in a hotel suite (seriously, there was a full size fridge) with 2 girls from law school and my college friend. We had a blast. I love a girl's weekend. The sink was covered with blow dryers, straighteners, curlers and makeup, and if you have forgotten something, you know one of your roommates brought it. We all got along very well and it was so fun to see everyone. We attended a toast/dessert party after the rehearsal dinner where I gave a speech, and I have to say, it was one of my best. Usually mine are hit or miss. I either start babbling and crying, but this was a good one! ;-) The next morning was the bridal brunch and we had chicken fried chicken and GRITS!!!! I was savoring my cheese grits - it is not fair that I only get grits once a year!!
After the brunch we laid out at the pool for a couple of hours and got ready for the wedding. Of course the bride was beautiful, the band and food was great and we had a blast. The most amazing part for me was that the bride's aunt MADE HER WEDDING CAKE!! And it was delicious. The groom told me that he carried the 80 pound cake into the reception earlier that day...I didn't tell him that it seemed to be on a tilt. So we danced and let me tell you - my rendition of "Shout" left me out of breath and pouring sweat. Apparently I have to get in shape for weddings now! The funniest thing was when we all dropped to the floor for "a little bit softer now," you could hear a groan from all the "older" people dancing.
OH! And the best part was, an 18 year old asked me to dance! I was lauging so hard when he realized that I was definitely not 18. He was dancing and singing to the music - so carefree. I said, "Oh you sing too, huh?" His reply - "There is music inside of all of us; you just have to let it out!" I think I need to get back in that mindset! I wanted to tell him, "My 31 year old boyfriend would be so impressed with me!" But I thought that might be a little scary for him. He was just so naive!
Ok, I am wrapping this up. This is more of an itinerary than a blog entry. I got to the ATL airport Sunday and was told that my flight was overbooked. They were offering some Delta points to anyone who would give up their seat and fly out the next day. As Mike said, "Please don't get your feelings hurt, but you really don't have anything to do." Fair point. So, I jumped up and gave away my seat. I stayed with Mike's sister, brother in law and their baby. Monday we went to music class for the child, which was hilarious, and then I was on a flight back home.
So, I am back to the grind and will never leave you hanging for a week again. I will say this. Our condo looks like a bachelor lived here for 5 days. None of the leftovers I had in the fridge were eaten and there was a huge pile of dishes in the sink. (Don't worry - the dishwasher was empty.....) So I am getting back to work and the reality of life. I think I need to find my inner music!!!
I am so sorry for the week long delay in my posting. I was surprised at how many people emailed me and asked when my next blog would be. I love it!! I have followers!!
So, the reason I have been MIA for the past week is that I left for South Carolina on Thursday to attend one of my good friend's weddings. I went to law school with the bride, but was introduced to her through one of my best friends from undergrad. Again, such a small world. So I flew into Charleston and my friend from college came to pick me up. I have to tell you, as soon as we landed and the humidity and 100 degree heat encompassed me, I was in love. I had never been to South Carolina, and instantly decided that I would be perfectly happy living there. (This is good because this is one of the places where Mike is hoping to get a job.) The boys were wearing seer sucker, opening doors and the southern accent was as strong as it could get. I couldn't stop smiling.
My friend and I "explored" Columbia until about 3 am. We had a blast. It was wonderful to see her and meet all of her friends. The next morning, we hopped in the car and headed to Florence, SC where the wedding was taking place. This wedding has been quite an ordeal. Initially, the bride wanted to get married in Wyoming, but the couple then decided to get married in Scotland. (I know, it was a little bizarre, but the groom has Scottish roots.) Had this worked out, I'm sure the ceremony and celebration would have been beautiful. Unfortunately, they realized that not very many people can afford a quick weekend trip to Scotland, so they settled on the bride's hometown of Florence.
We stayed in a hotel suite (seriously, there was a full size fridge) with 2 girls from law school and my college friend. We had a blast. I love a girl's weekend. The sink was covered with blow dryers, straighteners, curlers and makeup, and if you have forgotten something, you know one of your roommates brought it. We all got along very well and it was so fun to see everyone. We attended a toast/dessert party after the rehearsal dinner where I gave a speech, and I have to say, it was one of my best. Usually mine are hit or miss. I either start babbling and crying, but this was a good one! ;-) The next morning was the bridal brunch and we had chicken fried chicken and GRITS!!!! I was savoring my cheese grits - it is not fair that I only get grits once a year!!
After the brunch we laid out at the pool for a couple of hours and got ready for the wedding. Of course the bride was beautiful, the band and food was great and we had a blast. The most amazing part for me was that the bride's aunt MADE HER WEDDING CAKE!! And it was delicious. The groom told me that he carried the 80 pound cake into the reception earlier that day...I didn't tell him that it seemed to be on a tilt. So we danced and let me tell you - my rendition of "Shout" left me out of breath and pouring sweat. Apparently I have to get in shape for weddings now! The funniest thing was when we all dropped to the floor for "a little bit softer now," you could hear a groan from all the "older" people dancing.
OH! And the best part was, an 18 year old asked me to dance! I was lauging so hard when he realized that I was definitely not 18. He was dancing and singing to the music - so carefree. I said, "Oh you sing too, huh?" His reply - "There is music inside of all of us; you just have to let it out!" I think I need to get back in that mindset! I wanted to tell him, "My 31 year old boyfriend would be so impressed with me!" But I thought that might be a little scary for him. He was just so naive!
Ok, I am wrapping this up. This is more of an itinerary than a blog entry. I got to the ATL airport Sunday and was told that my flight was overbooked. They were offering some Delta points to anyone who would give up their seat and fly out the next day. As Mike said, "Please don't get your feelings hurt, but you really don't have anything to do." Fair point. So, I jumped up and gave away my seat. I stayed with Mike's sister, brother in law and their baby. Monday we went to music class for the child, which was hilarious, and then I was on a flight back home.
So, I am back to the grind and will never leave you hanging for a week again. I will say this. Our condo looks like a bachelor lived here for 5 days. None of the leftovers I had in the fridge were eaten and there was a huge pile of dishes in the sink. (Don't worry - the dishwasher was empty.....) So I am getting back to work and the reality of life. I think I need to find my inner music!!!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Adventures in Babysitting
I have decided that this is going to have to be a weekly post. These kids that I am babysitting for are HILARIOUS and something is always happening that makes me think, "Of course." Yesterday was no different.
On a side note, Mike made me take down my babysitting flyer that was posted in the foyer and apparently not being read. Not one person called me. Mike asked me who I thought would be calling since we live in a condo with 50+ year olds. My logic was that these grandparents would pass on my number to their children. His logic is that if the kids are over at grandma's they do not need a babysitter. Today I ran into one of our neighbors who I love in the garage. He always asks how I am doing and remembers our names and what is going on. He then smirked and asked if that was my flyer on the bulletin board. I guess he agreed with Mike.
Back to yesterday. I am going to call these children Jack and Jane because it is easier. Remember, Jane just turned 3 and Jack is 9 months old. Jane is going to be the next Einstein. I can tell those wheels are always turning. She knows how I am going to react to her antics and has a plan on how to get out of any trouble. When I arrived, Jack was still in his crib from his nap (he was awake) and Jane was working on her potty training.
When I say "working" I mean she is wearing a pull up and does not like the potty. Her mom was physically picking her up and placing her on the toilet while she screamed when I came in. It was going to be a good day. The mom explained to me that Jane should not being doing "Number 2" in her pull-up. She was supposed to trained for this. Ok, good warning.
I got Jack out of bed and the mom left for a little free time. We all went outside to play on the jungle gym and let Jane ride her tricycle. I was appropriately dressed this time, with work out shorts and a Piggly Wiggly t-shirt. (Don't you just love the Piggly Wiggly? Someone the other day saw my shirt and said, "I have heard of this place!" It's real folks, and it's all you dreamed it would be.) We went inside to feed Jack his strained turkey and sweet potatoes, which really ended up all over me. The constant chatter with Jane let me know that everything was ok and I was able to keep an eye on what she was doing.
Then. Silence. "Jane??" I yelled? "NO!" She replied. This can't be good. She has run into the corner of the den and I could tell she was performing #2. "Did you go #2 Jane?" "NO! Leave me alone!" Oh good God. So I am running around to catch this child so she can A) be placed on the toilet, and B) not continue to sit in her own waste. Yes, Jack is still strapped into his high chair sitting sweetly. I got him down so he wouldn't fall over somehow while I wasn't there and let him crawl around. When I got Jane in the bathroom, somehow waste was suddenly EVERYWHERE. Holy crap. How do you clean this stuff up? So I am searching for Clorox as she is rubbing her clothes, fingers and feet in it. Then the baby is crawling towards the bathroom.
I hiked the baby into a football position and ran him back to the den. (Don't worry he also had a dirty diaper.) Then I cleaned up the bathroom and Jane. When we were done, I asked her to get a new pull-up. Oh she got one, but wouldn't let me help her put it on. I was done. I had already counted to 3 enough times - it was time for the dreaded time out. Except she didn't dread it. She sauntered over to the bench and started singing. Clearly this was not punishment. I let her get down a few minutes later and we got her pull up on. Got Jack cleaned up. PS - it is not easy to change a 9 month old's diaper because he can flip right over and crawl away. I realized half way through that I was grabbing his leg while he fought with all his might towards freedom. Oops.
Once that was done, it was dinner time for Jane. Mac & cheese and some fruit. I started to warm up the mac & cheese. "I DON'T WANT MAC & CHEESE!! I WANT CEREAL AND MARSHMALLOWS!!!" What the heck? Who doesn't like mac & cheese? So I am thinking, "what is it that she wants??" She wanted Lucky Charms. Her mother and I have had multiple conversations about how they eat this a lot because it is easy and they both like it. I am telling her no as I am rummaging desperately through the pantry for the Lucky Charms. It was against every bone in my body to give into a three year old, but I did it. Then she picked out all the marshmallows and ate only that. (I stole some of that mac & cheese!)
That was pretty much the extent of our adventures yesterday. I am always so tired when I come home, and was chugging caffeine pretty much the entire four hours. Bravo to you moms - I don't know how you do it. I told my mother today that I love watching these kids and have gotten to the point that this is just what comes with the territory...when the kids are as cute as this, and come to hug you when you are about to leave, you just can't stay mad.
Yes, I went to eat Mexican last night covered in strained turkey and sweet potatoes. I'm not sure the waiters even noticed.
On a side note, Mike made me take down my babysitting flyer that was posted in the foyer and apparently not being read. Not one person called me. Mike asked me who I thought would be calling since we live in a condo with 50+ year olds. My logic was that these grandparents would pass on my number to their children. His logic is that if the kids are over at grandma's they do not need a babysitter. Today I ran into one of our neighbors who I love in the garage. He always asks how I am doing and remembers our names and what is going on. He then smirked and asked if that was my flyer on the bulletin board. I guess he agreed with Mike.
Back to yesterday. I am going to call these children Jack and Jane because it is easier. Remember, Jane just turned 3 and Jack is 9 months old. Jane is going to be the next Einstein. I can tell those wheels are always turning. She knows how I am going to react to her antics and has a plan on how to get out of any trouble. When I arrived, Jack was still in his crib from his nap (he was awake) and Jane was working on her potty training.
When I say "working" I mean she is wearing a pull up and does not like the potty. Her mom was physically picking her up and placing her on the toilet while she screamed when I came in. It was going to be a good day. The mom explained to me that Jane should not being doing "Number 2" in her pull-up. She was supposed to trained for this. Ok, good warning.
I got Jack out of bed and the mom left for a little free time. We all went outside to play on the jungle gym and let Jane ride her tricycle. I was appropriately dressed this time, with work out shorts and a Piggly Wiggly t-shirt. (Don't you just love the Piggly Wiggly? Someone the other day saw my shirt and said, "I have heard of this place!" It's real folks, and it's all you dreamed it would be.) We went inside to feed Jack his strained turkey and sweet potatoes, which really ended up all over me. The constant chatter with Jane let me know that everything was ok and I was able to keep an eye on what she was doing.
Then. Silence. "Jane??" I yelled? "NO!" She replied. This can't be good. She has run into the corner of the den and I could tell she was performing #2. "Did you go #2 Jane?" "NO! Leave me alone!" Oh good God. So I am running around to catch this child so she can A) be placed on the toilet, and B) not continue to sit in her own waste. Yes, Jack is still strapped into his high chair sitting sweetly. I got him down so he wouldn't fall over somehow while I wasn't there and let him crawl around. When I got Jane in the bathroom, somehow waste was suddenly EVERYWHERE. Holy crap. How do you clean this stuff up? So I am searching for Clorox as she is rubbing her clothes, fingers and feet in it. Then the baby is crawling towards the bathroom.
I hiked the baby into a football position and ran him back to the den. (Don't worry he also had a dirty diaper.) Then I cleaned up the bathroom and Jane. When we were done, I asked her to get a new pull-up. Oh she got one, but wouldn't let me help her put it on. I was done. I had already counted to 3 enough times - it was time for the dreaded time out. Except she didn't dread it. She sauntered over to the bench and started singing. Clearly this was not punishment. I let her get down a few minutes later and we got her pull up on. Got Jack cleaned up. PS - it is not easy to change a 9 month old's diaper because he can flip right over and crawl away. I realized half way through that I was grabbing his leg while he fought with all his might towards freedom. Oops.
Once that was done, it was dinner time for Jane. Mac & cheese and some fruit. I started to warm up the mac & cheese. "I DON'T WANT MAC & CHEESE!! I WANT CEREAL AND MARSHMALLOWS!!!" What the heck? Who doesn't like mac & cheese? So I am thinking, "what is it that she wants??" She wanted Lucky Charms. Her mother and I have had multiple conversations about how they eat this a lot because it is easy and they both like it. I am telling her no as I am rummaging desperately through the pantry for the Lucky Charms. It was against every bone in my body to give into a three year old, but I did it. Then she picked out all the marshmallows and ate only that. (I stole some of that mac & cheese!)
That was pretty much the extent of our adventures yesterday. I am always so tired when I come home, and was chugging caffeine pretty much the entire four hours. Bravo to you moms - I don't know how you do it. I told my mother today that I love watching these kids and have gotten to the point that this is just what comes with the territory...when the kids are as cute as this, and come to hug you when you are about to leave, you just can't stay mad.
Yes, I went to eat Mexican last night covered in strained turkey and sweet potatoes. I'm not sure the waiters even noticed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)