Separation Anxiety

Reg is out of town this weekend. He's had to make a few work-related, overnight trips in the last couple of years. Once or twice he's been several states away while on business, but usually his trips are just a few hours away from home. This is one of those trips. And really, it doesn't matter if he's 500 miles away, or just over to the next county. My feelings are the same.
In the past (meaning before the last 2 years or so) it didn't bother me to be alone. I wouldn't sleep well the first night, but by the second night, I was okay with it. I could go about most of my day, with little worry, and not spend every moment wondering if he's okay, or when is he going to call, or thinking that I couldn't wait for his to be home to make me feel safe again.

I used to be strong and independent. I had to be. I was married and divorced at a young age, I had 2 small children at the time, and I had to be strong. Even once Reg and I were married, I was jaded. I couldn't trust fully that we would stay together, so I had to be strong.

In the youthful arrogance of my 20s, I thought that while I wanted him, I didn't need him. I could do it on my own, I thought. I could work and take care of a house and kids, and pay bills and get through every day on my own, if I have to. It was a wall I built around myself, 4 feet thick, made of the strongest stone there was, insulation from the fear of being alone.

In my 30s, after 10 years of marriage, I find myself without walls, without protection from the fear. Slowly, over those 10 years, his love and loyalty and protection broke down those walls. I NEED him. He is an extension of my body and my heart. He is my strength. He holds me up, like a steel truss in the structure that is our life together.

And now I see that he didn't tear down my walls at all. He simply replaced them with himself. He became my protection, my strength, my support.

Watch Dog

3 a.m. is entirely to early to be up on a Saturday, but I had little choice, since one of the dogs would.Not.Stop.Barking. Of course, now that I'm up, said dog is sleeping blissfully on the floor in front of the door. First, a definition for you:

an·thro·po·mor·phize  (nthr-p-môrfz)

v.intr.

To ascribe human characteristics to things not human.

So bear with me while I tell you a tale about a blue heeler named Mac. 

Mac is my youngest son's dog. Mac and Chas have been fast friends since my hubby brought Mac home to us in December of 2010. Mac thinks he's Top Dog around here. He picks fights with the other dogs, and usually gets his butt whipped by them in due course. He's not a gentle dog. He's overly playful, rambunctious, and big for his breed. He's very protective of the family in general, but he's protective of Chas most of all. Mac loves his boy. So tonight, I imagine Mac's incessant barking was a protective mechanism. Allow me to explain.

Reg is working out of town this weekend. He packed up his equipment and headed out to Checotah Oklahoma at about 7pm last night. Chas and I went to town and grabbed some dinner, came home and plopped in front of the TV and ate dinner, and went to bed at about 10. 

*WOOF!* *RUFF* *GRRRR-ARF!* For an hour or so, this goes on... I get up and let the dogs out. Two minutes later, they're at the door, barking again. Let them in. Go back to bed. Repeat every 7-10 minutes for about an hour and a half.

*Thump* *BARK!* Something made a scraping noise outside, and Mac is barking his head off at the front door. It's 11:30 p.m. and Chas is scared. I get up, arm myself, and go to check it out. Nothing. Maybe a cat. Trash can knocked over. Back to bed. Telling Mac to be quiet. Finally he listens, and we all go peacefully to sleep.

Or so I thought. I imagine Mac stayed up, keeping vigilant watch by the front door. Either something spooked him, or he just got too tired to stay awake any longer. At 3 a.m. he began barking in good earnest, and refused to stop until I was on my feet. I let the dogs out again, and make a check of the house. Everything is fine. Not even a cat is disturbing the gentle peace of the night. *Bark Bark Bark* comes from the back door, which I imagine means, "Let me in, I've checked out the backyard, and found everything to be in perfect order. My work here is done." Upon which time, I let him in, and he went to his accustomed spot by the front door, turned around three times, and plopped down with a self-satisfied sigh and went instantly to sleep. 

After all, he kept watch for his family for half the night, apparently now it's MY turn. And now that I was up, he could catch some shut-eye.

Wish I could.

Thank you, Mac, for protecting us from the Boogey Man... or would that be the Boogey Cat? :)

First Day Recap

The first day of school went well for everyone. Here's a rundown of the day:

Alarm goes off at 6 A.M.
I get up, get all the kids up, and walk them through their routines (Brush your teeth, eat your breakfast, do you have you papers? Did you remember to get your schedule off the fridge? Turn off the light in the bedroom! Hugs, Kisses, have a great first day!). Weston and Morgan climb on the bus at 6:45, and Chas gets on his bus at 7:45. What to do with all this free time on my hands?

8AM - 12:30PM:
Bake cookies. Start the laundry. Move all the appliances and scrub and sweep and mop under them (stove, fridge, dishwasher). Move the buffet and give it the same treatment. Tear apart the stove and clean it (My Gosh! How on earth did THAT get THERE? Ewwww!!!).

While the burners and other pieces to the stove were soaking in hot water, I decided I'd run the vacuum. Three times. And do the baseboards. And if you're gonna do the baseboards, you might as well wash the walls. So I did that too... Just in the kitchen though. I'm not completely crazy. Running the vacuum made me realize how bad my carpets stink (from the dogs) so I sprinkled pet odor remover on the carpet and let it sit for 15 minutes. While I waited, I dusted. The more I cleaned, the more dirt I found. I took the curtains down and threw them in the washer. Finished the vacuuming, and then tore apart the vacuum cleaner and cleaned it out. And then everything came to a SCREECHING halt.

12:30PM, Reg came home. In the middle of the day. And I completely lost focus. Ugh. And there I sat, with the vacuum cleaner all tore apart, the stove in the middle of the kitchen, and both sinks full to the brim, one soaking, one just full of vacuum cleaner parts. ~sigh~

Somehow, between 12:30 and 1:30, I managed to get everything finished up and put away, except for rehanging the curtains. It was so nice to have all the beautiful sunshine pouring in the windows. I went to town, ran some errands, stopped by a consignment shop, and came on home. Reg took off to work again, and the kids came home. I listened to them talk about their day, and my eyes started to cross. I couldn't focus on anything else. I. Was. DONE.

I took a short nap while the kids had their snacks and watched TV. Then I got up and cooked dinner. Weston did the dishes. All the kids did their bedtime routines, and got to bed on time. It's 9:47PM, and they are passed smooth out.

I had every intention of relaxing and doing nothing but enjoying my kid-free day. But suddenly, all these things needed done. NOW. ALL OF IT. SO, it's done. I think tomorrow I'll treat myself to a little retail therapy :)

School Daze, the Return

Tomorrow is the first day of the 2011-12 school year for my kids. All the supplies have been bought (grudgingly, and only what I CHOSE to send them to school with). They've been doled out and packed away in back packs. Outfits are laid out, paperwork is signed, everyone's had a bath, and it's 7 minutes until bedtime here in the Murray Household.

I know similar situations will take place all over the country in the next few weeks, and my household is no special exception. Except.
Except that my children are growing up too fast. They are big enough to get themselves up and ready for school. Big enough to carry a house-key and let themselves in if no one is home in the afternoon. Big enough to make their own after-school snack.

Weston is in 8th grade.
( Just typing that sentence made new gray hairs pop out on my head!)
He's nearly as tall as I am. He's decided not to participate in sports. He DECIDED. His Choice. Not mine. He has his reasons, and I understand them. But it was a shock to realize that he was big enough to make the choice, to talk about it rationally like an adult, to defend his position.

Morgan is in 7th grade.
(POP POP POP!!! More gray hairs.)
She is taking a Drama/Theater class this year. Perfect choice for her, my little drama queen. She asked me how to apply the make-up she's had since Christmas. She's showing an interest in becoming a young lady, instead of a tom-boy.

Chas is in 5th grade.
(Silence. Whew! I'm going gray fast enough already!)
It's his last year in elementary school.
(POP! ... I knew it.)
So, he has all the basic classes, plus archery. Yes, Archery. My little boy with a bow and arrows. Awesome!

As for me, I get one week of quiet time, one week of having the house to myself, until I also go back to school. One whole week. It's not enough! I haven't even considered what I might get done with that one week. I don't want to overload myself with things to do, especially knowing that after this week, quiet time will be a lot more limited, and filled up with school work. I'm taking Chemistry this semester, which is completely uncharted territory for me. Way scary! I also have Clinical Pathology Part Deux, which means more blood, urine and feces samples, along with other kinds of mysterious goo, I'm sure. Oh, the joy!

Here's hoping for another successful school year!

Slow down!

Some days, I’m so caught up in “doing”, I forget about “being.”

DOING the business things, like answering phone calls and scheduling appointments, and calming the client who has found yet another bat in her home. “Yes, Ma’am, I understand that this is the third bat you’ve found in your home this week. But under federal law, until all the baby bats have become flight capable, we can’t close up the access points. They would die. Yes, I know you’re frustrated. I’m frustrated for you, but I’m bound by laws, rules, regulations and protection acts that prevent me from evicting the bats RIGHT THIS SECOND.” 

Whew, crisis averted. 

“Yes Sir, I can reschedule your appointment for tomorrow afternoon (on the hottest day of the year, when my husband will have to traipse through your attic at 3 in the afternoon looking for a raccoon).” 

“Hello, Banker Lady who hasn’t called me back until now, 3 weeks later, and has bad news for me. Yes, thank you for your time, and thank you for crushing my dream of EVER becoming a homeowner.”

“Oklahoma Wildlife Control, can I help you?” CLICK. That one happens 4 times a day, every day. Aggravation.

“Hello, part-time employee who has called in at least once every week since we hired you. Your truck won’t start? Oh, well that’s ok, we’ll just have to reschedule THE HUGE JOB THAT SHOULD PAY LOTS OF money for next week.”

In DOING, I forget to just BE. Be a business owner, who should be happy when the phone rings, because those rings mean business, and money, and security and paid bills. Gas in the car. School supplies for the kids. The opportunity to grow as a business. I forget to BE thankful. I forget to BE a person, not just a robot who answers the phone. I forget to be thankful that this really sweet Banker Lady has spent countless hours of her time and her money and her resources to help me figure out the mess that is my credit, without ever charging me a penny. I forget to be thankful that we have an employee, who is just a kid, but biddable and a fast learner. He’s really doing a great job. I forget to BE compassionate. I forget to BE the person who can see things from more than one perspective, see past the end of my own nose.

In DOING all the mom-jobs and wifely-duties, I forget to BE thankful for dirty clothes and dirty dishes and dusty furniture and mud on the floor. I complain about the mountains or dirty laundry, and DO them, wash them, fold them, put them all away, But I forget to BE thankful that my family is active enough to get their clothes dirty, to track mud on the floor. Thankful that they are capable of opening the door that blows dust into the house.  Thankful that we had food in the house, that my children are capable of fixing their own lunch and creating dirty dishes. 

I forget to BE mom. To BE the person they can talk to, rely on for a smile or a hug. I forget to be a wife, to offer a hug and a kiss to my exhausted hubby when he comes in from work. I’m always DOING, I’m too busy, maybe later, don’t talk to me, can’t you see I’m on the phone? It’s a business call! Just a minute!

Whew. Slow down. Be. Stop doing. It’s ok to stop. It’s ok to breathe. It’s ok to play. It’s necessary!

These are the things I need to remember.

School Daze

School supply lists are completely ridiculous these days. And overwhelming, and in some cases, amounts to extortion. When you're only buying school supplies for one child, most items on the list can be managed. Multiply your lists by three, and it gets more stressful. But with my oldest two children being in middle school and having multiple teachers, each teacher has their OWN supply list, and it's INSANE! I'm getting a migraine, and my checkbook is cowering from fear of the assault about to be inflicted on it.

Pencils, red pens, paper and folders, I can totally get on board with that. But every classroom is asking for Clorox Disinfecting wipes, 4 or more boxes of tissues (multiply that by 5 teachers, times 3 kids....) Some classrooms want Tennis Balls (for the chair legs... what happened to last year's tennis balls on the chair legs?). Some classrooms want batteries, dry erase markers, fish food and water tank conditioners (seriously? I have to feed the teacher's pets? And take care of its living needs? Don't I have a family to care for???), light bulbs, ballons, air freshener sprays (I know good and well the school employs janitors!), Ziplok bags, and Band-Aids.

(Insert scream of frustration here)

But wait! That's not all! Behind door number 3? A lovely USAGE FEE for each child to use the computers for their homework. What computers, you may be asking? The very same computers that the school received a grant for. The very same computers issued to each child at the beginning of the school year. The same computers that the teachers REQUIRE the students to use in order to complete their homework! $50 per child.

( I know you can't see it, but I seriously have my mad face on right now. )

Now, I offer suggestions to the public school system. Stop buying new books. Stop changing the books you use every year. And while you're at it, stop buying DOUBLES of the new books. Yes, they buy twice the amount of books they need, so the child can leave one at home, and have one at school, so they don't have to lug them around for homework. Ya know what? I lugged books, didn't hurt me a bit! That way, the school might be able to provide the science classrooms with the tin foil and light bulbs and batteries needed for 7th grade science experiments.

Another suggestion: perhaps your football field go forgo the massive million-dollar makeover, and you could apply that money to... I don't know... teacher's salaries? Or a healthier lunch menu? Or even Kleenex! Because 4 boxes of Kleenex per student, per classroom? RIDONKULOUS!

And yet another suggestion: Since you, the public school system, received a grant for those precious MacBooks, perhaps you should only charge us, the parents of the children to whom you issue them, if said CHILD loses or damages said MacBook. CHILD being the operative word there. Because if you issue a brand new computer to CHILD, you can be sure something bad will happen to it. I'm not saying all children are irresponsible, I'm just saying... Expect it to happen.

I'm not saying I have all the answers. I'm not saying our schools don't need money. What I'm saying is perhaps the public school system could be a little more responsible with how they spend the money the state and federal governments give them. And I'm not saying I shouldn't have to buy any school supplies. I am all for giving my children the tools for success. But I'm not going to go out and buy the teachers dry erase markers and zipper bags and tennis balls, just to make their jobs easier. I don't ask my clients to pay for my business cards or my Zumba Gear. Teacher's shouldn't be asking us to pay for the tools they need in their jobs. What teachers DO need and DESERVE are bigger salaries.

And teacher's salaries? Well, that's a rant for another day. Thanks for listening to me rant. Now I'm off to buy some school supplies.

If you can't play nicely...

 A few days ago, I posted something on my Facebook page to which Someone took offense. This Someone -who is in my profession, and works where I work- behaved very badly on my Facebook page. I responded in private, hoping the matter would resolve itself. Alas, it doesn't seem to be going well at all. Someone now seems to have made it her mission to hurt my business. Someone is going after my clients in an attempt to woo them away from me.

On one hand, I giggle. It's kinda funny. A little healthy competition isn't necessarily a bad thing. We can all grow and learn from the experience. Or not... whatever.

On the other hand, I'm just that little bit angry. I haven't done anything wrong. I was merely marketing my business to the best of my ability. I can't help it if Someone was offended by my strategy.

On another hand (because I'm a mom, I must have more than 2 hands, HAH!) it's a little sad. I never set out in this business to make enemies. Most of the people in this business are friendly, to the point of being one big happy family. So this direct attack feels a little foreign to me. I'm trying to not feel threatened by it.

I've even considered apologizing, though I don't believe in false apologies. And any apology I made towards Someone would be false, since I haven't done anything wrong.

I'm trying to stay professional, to not let on to those clients that there is a rift, a problem. But this rift or problem or whatever has the potential to touch every client I have, and I don't want them caught unawares. I also don't want to stir the pot any more than necessary. I'm trying to believe in my clients' faith in me, and hoping for the best. But I can't help but feel like I should head Someone off at the pass, just in case. 

Exactly what do I have to do here? I mean, am I required to do anything at all? Do I apologize just for the sake of Playing Nicely? Or do I let well enough alone, be the bigger person, and hope for the best?

I can hear my Momma telling the neighborhood kids: "If you can't play nicely, take your toys and go home." 
If only it were that simple.

Sunday, in review

Up at 8:30, after a night out with my hubby and some great friends. Less than 6 hours of sleep, and that sleep was riddled with active dreams, flipping, flopping, tossing and turning. The bedroom was too hot, i was uncomfortable, and hubby took up more than his share of the bed, sheet and pillows.

Coffee, Facebook, Email, more coffee, and then get dressed. Pick up the kids at 10:00. Come home, Help the oldest boy pack for camp, give him a quick haircut, give a close friend a new hair cut, and out the door by 11:20 to drop the son off for camp.

Cry on the way home, because, my LORD!!! When did he get so big? He's seriously almost as tall as me. I'm 6'1" ya'll... he's 14. FOURTEEN YEARS OLD!! And almost 6 feet tall. Geez. And he's handsome, and smart, and responsible. And I must say, we've done a pretty good job raising him. But our time together grows shorter everyday, and that's why I cried on the way home.

Where was I? Oh yeah... get home at about 12:20, get dressed for Zumba, gather remaining 2 kids, and out the door by 1:15. Zumba at 2:00. Six fabulous people showed up, and we worked out HARD. Show up at Bree's house for a quick shower (Thanks Bree!) and off to a meeting of the minds with some highly organized and talented women in Inola. Home by 6:15, start cooking, cleaning, laundry, shine the sink, eat dinner, and then Facebook and more coffee. Because by this time, I'm sleep-walking. Dead on my feet.

Early to bed? No way! Give hubby a haircut, put away the dinner leftovers, answer Facebook messages, and ... now what? My coffee just kicked in! Nope, not going to bed. Maybe I'll vacuum the floors. And change over the laundry. And work on Zumba routines. Because a mother's work is never done.

Fear

All this talk of impending storms tonight has me very very VERY frightened. I'm generally not scared of storms. Thunder and lightening don't bother me, and I often enjoy the spring rains. I take the opportunity to sleep with the windows open, listening to the rain patter through the trees and drip off the house.

Tonight, I am afraid of tornadoes. My cousin lost her home on Sunday to the tornado in Joplin, MO. She literally has nothing left, except the clothes she was wearing, and her car. So many other people lost so much more, and the loss of life continues to grow each day, as they uncover more wreckage and find more bodies.
My mind goes to strange places in the face of this fear. It is not fear of the unknown. I know what is at stake. I know what I stand to lose. For all that I complain about my tiny house, my tiny "one-butt" kitchen, not having enough storage space, etc., for all my complaining, I am blessed to have a home. To have a roof over my head, to have a teeny little kitchen in which to prepare meals that provide my family with sustenance. To have a room in which I can escape, alone or with my love, to have shelving on which I store the food that sustains us, closets to keep my things in, couches and desks and computers, a washer and dryer, a dishwasher... all these things I have. Others have not. My mind boggles and heart breaks at the thought of losing these things. The thought of having absolutely NO HOME, no room, no closets, nothing left except what I'm wearing, and if I'm lucky, my car. And beyond that, the thought of having to replace all those lost items. The expense! The hassle!
And yet... What about the things that can never be replaced? The lives lost, the loved ones who are missing, the heartbreak, the fear, the loneliness can be overwhelming. That loss I can not imagine. And I don't want to live it. I don't want to find out what it's like. I don't want to experience the fear and loneliness. I don't want to live through that kind of loss.
Tonight I am thankful for my blessings, my tiny house with the tiny kitchen, my too-small closets and rickety shelving, my hand-me-down appliances. More than that, I am thankful that I live, that my cousin lives. I am thankful that so far, we are untouched by any life-taking destruction, and I pray for a hedge of protection around my family, loved ones, neighbors, and friends.

Calm our fears, Lord, and keep us safe in the shelter of Your Love.

Random stuff I'm catching up on

For 16 weeks, all my energy was focused on getting through the Spring Semester at school. For the last six weeks, any remaining energy I had was focused on getting through the Zumbathon. Now that it's all over, I hardly know what to do!

School is over, grades are tallied up, and while I'm not completely happy with the outcome, I can live with it. I received two B's and a C. That C is killing me, because I know I'm a better student than that. While it was a very high C (78.45%), it's still a C. It doesn't reflect my level of hard work, or my level of intelligence. There's nothing I can do about it now, though.  Thankfully, it didn't hurt my GPA, which is still a 3.83. More on the woes of school later.

The Zumbathon was an amazing experience. Only one minor blip with the sound system, and everything else ran as smooth as I could hope for. All the instructors brought amazing energy. The routines and music were all so fun! Our attendance was around 40 or so, and I consider that a success. We had almost no expenses, thanks to the efforts of many people who worked together. Door prizes were donated, along with the use of a stage. There was even a company in town who matched the money we raised, and the total was somewhere around $1000 altogether. Mr. Nutter attended along with his family and stayed through the entire event. He looked really great for someone receiving treatments for stage 4 lung cancer. He took the microphone a few times and said some encouraging and thankful words to us all. He spoke of the prayer circle and invited us all to join. He spoke of the generosity of the town, and the gratitude he and his family feel. I was so blessed to have been a part of something so meaningful.

So now that it's all over, it's back to Normal Life. Like there IS SUCH A THING, haha.I feel a bit restless and random today, just in the wake of all the excitement. With no homework to do, and nothing else to worry about right now, I don't quite know what to do with myself! But it's a good feeling, knowing that I can just "be" for a while, without being busy.

The kids have school for about another week and a half. Not long at all. In that time, I hope to do some serious decluttering and cleaning around the house, and maybe even paint the kids' bedrooms in an attempt to lure them into the habit of keeping their rooms clean. However, that may be a futile endeavor. 

House Hunting has been put on hold for a bit, so no updates for you on that front. I still want the house we looked at in Claremore, and I hope that soon the time will be right, and all the pieces will fall into place. I'm being patient, and I'm praying. 

It's a little bit odd to look forward into this week and realize that there is nothing pressing. Just everyday stuff. Hope you all have a great week!

Sing along

Music lifts my spirit most days. I can't go a day without listening to music, almost any kind will do! I grew up singing in church, then in the choir at school, and I've even been known to sing some karaoke once in a while.Often, music can say exactly what I'm feeling. Currently, these songs are among some of my favorites, and they hold some meaning for me as well. 

"I used to dream about
the life I'm living now.
I know that there's no doubt, 
I made it, I made it."
This one is so true! I may not be living a "perfect life", but I have a job I love, a supporting and hard-working hubby, and 3 really great kids. Sure, my life could be better, but honestly? I'm doing pretty darn good.

"I have been blessed
and I feel like I've found my way.
I thank God for all I've been given,
at the end of every day."
Honestly, how often do we remember, recount, and recall all the things in our lives that truly bless us?Because even when things look bleak, or scary, or just downright BAD, we have blessings. Family who love us, friends we can count on, some hobby or talent or something that can make us happy. A job, even if we hate it, is a blessing, especially in today's economy. A house that's too small is still a place to live, and is definitely a blessing when you consider the alternative! Everybody has something that blesses them.

"You spin my head right round, right round..."
That one goes out to my Zumba students. Every single one of them is simply amazing. Their dedication, energy, and excitement continually lift me up and can turn around any bad day! I love them all so much! And speaking of blessings, I am so blessed to be able to know each and  every one of these amazing ladies. And I've been blessed to witness some pretty amazing changes in some of these women as well. I am continually impressed by their progress!

I am blessed, I made it, and my head spins when I think of all the wonderful things in my life right now.

FINAL-LY

A little play on words there, since it's finals week. I know. It's weak. Week, weak, whatever.
This is what Finals Week does to my brain. I can't concentrate on anything. I have stupid little inconsequential thoughts all jumbled up with the BIG IMPORTANT THINGS I'm supposed to be remembering for my exams. Yeah.

So, I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm literally sick at my stomach because I'm so stinking nervous. And normally, to combat these bad feelings, I would go to my nearest Zumba class and shake away my stress. But the stress is causing body aches, and I have my own classes to teach, so I have to give my body a break in between my own classes... And yet, I hurt. I need endorphins! Catch-22, anyone?

I'll be incredibly happy when this week is over. I know I will. For about 2 weeks, I will blissfully happy, with no homework, no definite goals beyond house-work and feeding the crew. After two weeks, I will be bored. I will be begging for a goal, a specific time frame in which things must be done. Because I can not live without purpose. I can not survive without structure and routine.

And then the kids will be out of school for the summer, and routines and structure will deteriorate further.

See what Finals Week does to my brain? I'm complaining because I can't wait to be done with this semester, all the while, worrying over what I will do once it IS over?

I should be studying. Wish me luck!

She

She is her mother's daughter.
She makes me smile.
She makes me laugh.
She is artistic. Brilliant. Incredibly smart. Observant. Stubborn. (She comes by that one honest enough.)
She makes me realize all the stuff I put my mother through. (Sorry Mom!)
And...


She is ... Making... Me... CRAZY!!!!!

My child, my middle child, my sweet, loving, laughing little girl is driving me up a wall. I have no clue how to talk to her. I don't know what to say to make her understand that if she wants a change to come about, SHE has to make it happen! I can't help her with this one!

You see, She is about to fail the 6th grade. For three 9-week periods now, we have struggled and fought, and grounded, and argued, and taken things away, all in the apparently vain hopes that something would make enough of an impression on her, to get her to buckle down, focus, and make better grades.

This? This is one thing I NEVER put my mother through. I was always, and still am, an over-achiever. I make good grades. I study. I care about my success. Mostly because I always wanted my parents to be proud of me.

My daughter? Nope. She couldn't care less. Her excuses for not doing her work? "I don't want to." "I didn't feel like doing it." "I did it, I just didn't turn it in."

?????????????????????????? WHAT?????????????????????????

Why would you do the work, and then not WANT to receive credit for it? I don't understand her thought processes. I don't understand why she is so determined that she CAN'T do anything about it at this point, so she's just going to fail. I don't want her to fail. I want her to believe in herself. I want her to TRY HARDER! But every time we talk about her grades, her study habits, she just responds with, "I can't," or "I don't know."

She has struggled in the past, and we got her on medication for her very severe ADHD. She's smart as a whip, she just can't focus. Her dosage is already really high, and based on what I've seen of her attention span for things like beading, video games, reading, arts and crafts, and so on (basically, the things she likes to do), her medicine is working fine. This? This is all behavioral. She is choosing to not do her work. She is choosing to not turn it in. She is choosing to fail. And since she's 12, she thinks she's big enough to decide to not do her work, but then shirks the responsibility for doing something to correct the problem.

So my question is this: How would you handle this situation? How would talk to a child who refuses to talk about the problem? Would there be a punishment? How would you follow up to make sure she was doing the work, turning it in, and so on?

I feel like I've tried everything. Punishments, grounding, taking away video games, taking away her favorite toys, no arts and crafts, and so on. We even took her out of Rainbow Girls. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING has had an impact on her. Nothing entices her to make the right choices. It really seems as though she doesn't care. We tell her she is smart enough, we tell her she has to make good choices, we tell her that she's the only one who can make this change.

I even tried a more negative tactic, telling her that if she doesn't pass the sixth grade, she's going to be almost 20 when she graduates high school (because she's already been held back once, in first grade), that the other kids will call her names and make fun of her. Maybe this was a mistake, because instead of making her want to do better, she just seems to be giving up.

She is amazing, this daughter of mine. She teaches me knew things about myself everyday. She shines so brightly when she wants to. And right now, she is making me absolutely nuts.

So how do I teach her? How do I get through?

Reasons

“Everything happens for a reason.” I don’t know if there’s an author for that particular quote, but I live by it. When my dreams are crushed, I know that there’s a reason. When I’m on cloud 9, and everything is going my way, there’s a reason. I know that God has a plan, and every struggle and every victory is a part of His plan for my life.

Every obstacle in your path is there to teach you something. In order to be taught, you must first realize that you don’t know the answer. Then you must be willing to open your eyes and ears, and you must be willing to close your mouth, so that you can learn all the things you need to know, to arrive at the answer. And the lesson you are learning may have more than one obstacle. 

Nine years ago, I lived in Texas with my husband and children. My husband had lost his great-paying job due to some budget cuts and other political nonsense, and we were having a hard time making ends meet. I finally called my parents and asked for help. They came down to see us at Christmas time, we worked out all the details, and by the first week of January, we were back in my hometown in a little rent house. Two weeks before we moved back, my grandmother had been diagnosed with cancer. She was ill, and required a lot of care. In retrospect, looking back, I see that the lost job was a blessing; that because of the lost job, I was able to move back home and spend three months with my grandmother before she passed away.

I know that at every stage of my life, I am exactly where God wants me to be. I am exactly where He needs me to be. I am exactly where He knows I need to be. 

A couple of months ago, I began to dream, to wish, to fervently pray for a specific change in our current living situation. I allowed myself to look at homes, to imagine ourselves in something bigger, something better, something that we could call ours. Something that we wouldn’t outgrow. (And trust me, at the rate my kids are growing, we need some serious space!) I found a place. It felt right. I could see us living there. I could see us waking up there, going to bed there, living our days and nights there.  It suits our needs to a tee. It has room to grow, room for improvement. The neighborhood is clean.  The yards are taken care of. And the storage! Oh em gee!!! Even the closets have cabinets inside them! It’s an OCD-organizational freak’s paradise! I fell in love with it. 

I allowed myself to dream. To plan. I even brought home boxes for packing. Then we looked into financing, and my dreams were crushed once again. Remember when I wrote about the process? Well, the process began again. I spent a day in tears. Then I spent a day just being mad. Mad at the world. Didn’t I deserve something better? Aren’t I a good person? What on earth did I do to deserve this sort of crushing blow? What good does it do to dream? Apparently I’ll just never have anything better. Doomed. Destroyed. Crushed.  I rationalized. I stopped planning. I stopped caring. Because if you don’t care, then it doesn’t have to hurt. Just don’t think about it.

Then I looked at the situation realistically.

And then I remembered:

Everything happens for a reason.

I DO deserve better, and God will provide a way. I haven’t learned the lesson yet. I must open my eyes, my ears, my heart, and be willing to accept the lesson. I won’t know the Reason until I learn the lesson. God has a plan. And it’s OK to dream. It’s ok to want. It’s human. I’m human, I’m created in God’s image. And I’m His dream. I’m His desire. He wants better things for me. He loves me and wants the very best for my life. 

All I have to do is open my heart to the Lesson. Then, and only then, can I learn the Lesson. And then I will know why things happen the way they do. He has a plan for me. 

Everything.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

Happens for a reason.

Today?

Is today the day? Is today the day when I feel as positive on the inside as I appear on the outside? It's a good facade, I wear it well. I'm strong, competent, capable, educated. And worried. Always worried. Worried about my children, about their not-too-far-off futures. About their grades, about the choices they make, or fail to make. Worried about financing a home. About "what if's" and "what now?"

I worry about my school. Will I really be able to put up with two more years of this kind of stress? Is it really worth it? Is it really what I want? Is today the day that I crack under all the pressure and say "I'M DONE!"?

I worry about my hubby. He works so hard for us, and I worry that he will get bitten by a snake, sprayed by a skunk, or impale himself on a rusty nail in someone's attic while chasing down a raccoon. I worry that he will fall off a roof, and not be able to work and take care of us. I worry that he will become tired of doing it all alone while I attempt to finish school.

I worry about my parents. I don't ever want to disappoint them. I want them to be proud of me for finishing school, proud of my husband for working so hard, and proud of my children for making good grades and good choices.

Is today the day I will feel as positive on the inside as I appear on the outside?

Today is the day I will pray. As I always do, I will pray. I will give it to God, and he will hold it and handle it for me. And today I will be stronger for it. Today is the day.

The Filter

Most of us have what I like to call a "Filter" somewhere between our brains and our mouths. Some of us use the Filter quite wisely, not only to remove impurities and judgements from our words and thoughts, but occasionally to add a touch of compassion or tact to the words before we release them into the atmosphere. Sometimes our Filters fail and our words wreak havoc. We say hurtful things, thoughtless things. We spew negativity. Negativity leaves a bad taste in the mouth, and a burden on the spirit.

Personally, I know of a few conditions under which my Filter will fail. For instance, if it is within 30 minutes after I wake up, talking to me or asking my opinion may result in Failure of the Filter. If the Filter is not powered up by application of caffeine with an hour, Filter Failure may progress and worsen throughout the day. PMS disables the Filter for days at a time.

I said all that, to say this: Some days, I just want to hear something positive. Something that has been beautifully filtered, enhanced with a little love and a lot of positivity. Because some days, I don't want to hear about how another person's experience was worse than mine, or more involved than mine. I want to hear how amazing this experience will be, how it's all worth it in the end, I just want people to power up their Filters, and say something positive instead of spewing drama and negativity at me.

***Insert scream of frustration here***

***~Disclaimer~***
This post will not be my usual positive outlook on life. There will be no happiness, no gushing, no joy. Only ranting. So, if you're having a really great day, stop reading here, bookmark this page, and come back at a later time. For those of you who are willing to put up with my rant, I thank you. Here goes:

I AM NOT AN IDIOT!!!! You know how I know this? Because I have a stinking 3.85 GPA, after starting college FOURTEEN YEARS after I graduated high school. I'm smart, I'm competent, and I'm capable. With that being said, I also know that I don't know EVERYTHING. And this is why I ask my teachers for help. I ask questions. I ask A LOT of questions, because it helps me to sort information and then put that information together in a way that makes sense to me. Just ask my classmates. I ASK A LOT OF QUESTIONS.

Let me set the stage for you: This morning, I was chosen to be the anesthetist for a routine ovariohysterectomy (that's a spay, for you lay-people). I've never been the anesthetist before, and I wasn't quite sure in which order things should be done, or how to hook up the many many hoses to the very confusing anesthesia machine. So I asked for help. Apparently, that was a mistake, because the answer I got from the teacher's aid went like this:

"Are you kidding me? You've seen this before! It was on your test!" ~No, it wasn't, but whatever. "You should already know this! I'm NOT giving you the answer!"

Which I interpreted to mean, "I refuse to help or teach you, because you're already supposed to know this."

Now, let me counter all this bull-ogna with my own observations:


Dear Know-it-all, Always Right RVT,
1. "Supposed to" is a subjective term, based on your opinion that I'm already educated enough to do this job on my own, so why are you here? Oh yeah... To TEACH ME!

2. When I ask for help, I'm not playing dumb. I come to you for help because YOU ARE "SUPPOSED TO" be my teacher... there's that subjective term again! My opinion has since been revised, as far as your abilities to teach me!

3. No, it wasn't on my test, but you're going to believe whatever you want, because you went to a bigger better school, and learned more, better, blah-blah-blah. Lady, I do not care where you learned to be an RVT, because now you're teaching at (name of institution), and it ain't the same.

4. Seeing something once before, 8 weeks ago, during a whirlwind demonstration where the machine DIDN'T EVEN WORK PROPERLY AT THE TIME isn't the same as doing it the first time, 8 weeks later, all by myself. Just so ya know. And just because I saw it once, doesn't mean I remember it. I'm not stupid, I'm human.

5. You're not giving me the answer? So you're refusing to teach me? You're really refusing to do your job, based on what you think you know about my education? Really? SERIOUSLY???

***Insert LOUD scream of frustration here***

Today's instance was just one of many. I am not alone in having this type of adventure with this particular person. Two weeks ago, she blew the IV catheter that I had successfully placed by jerking the animal's leg out of my hand to show me the way she learned to place catheters. I was doing it the way I was taught, but it wasn't good enough. So the IV catheter had to be replaced, causing a large ugly hematoma (bruise) on the dog's leg, for which I got chewed out. Today, she jerked an entire bottle of pre-anesthesia medication out of my hand while the syringe was still in it, because she wasn't happy with the way I was doing it.

When I started this program, I was told it would cost about $12,000. That's not bad, really. What they didn't tell me it would cost me? My self-esteem, self-respect, self-confidence, blood, sweat, and many tears.

I still have 2 years left. I think this calls for another scream of frustration.

Just some things

Somethings you may already now about me:
1. I'm over 6 feet tall.
2. I have really big feet!
3. I have naturally curly hair.
4. I am a Zumba instructor, a wife, a mother of 3, and a student. Don't ask me how I do it all, I don't know.
5. I also run 3 businesses from home. See #4, part 2.
6. I have 3 dogs.
7. I love animals. See #6.
8. I'm a sucker for homeless animals. See #6.
9. I have lots of acquaintances, and very few true friends.
10. I love to cook, and I'm good at it.

Some things you may NOT know about me:
1. At over 6 feet tall, I'm the shortest person in my family. Mom, Dad, and my brother, are all taller than me.

2. While my feet are big, as in long, they are also very skinny, which makes shoe-shopping doubly difficult. I also recently found out that I have double arches, which explains my shin pain while teaching Zumba.

3. I recently discovered a process called the Brazilian Blowout, so now my once curly, unruly frizzy locks are smooth, shiny and frizz-free. And I think I might be addicted to this particular process. Can one be addicted to a hairstyle? Cuz I am.

4a. The title of Zumba Instructor does not begin to cover my love for this activity. Zumba is a wonderful outlet for me. I've never been a dancer, always been clumsy and awkward, and never been accused of being graceful a day in my life. But when I Zumba, I OWN it! I love it. I lost 30 pounds in the first 6 months! Zumba makes me a better person, and not just because of the increased self esteem. I have made fabulous new friends, met some amazing people, and I get to spread the love wherever I go.

4b. The wife, mother of 3, and student part? Love it too. I have an amazing husband who takes care of us. He makes sure we have everything we need, and if I didn't reign him in from time to time, he would make sure we had everything we wanted, too. He's supportive of my Zumba career, because he's seen the changes it's made in my life. He's supportive of my education, because he's pushed me for 10 years to go to college, and I'm finally doing it. But School? I could do without it most days. I feel much too busy to keep up with it all, but I keep swimming, keep pushing on.

5. The 3 businesses? Oklahoma Wildlife Control, LLC, is my husband's creation. But it's kinda my baby too. I own it, in fact. And I'm proud of what we do. My husband and I are true conservationists. We understand that when overpopulation occurs, animals cause problems for humans. Raccoons get in attics, skunks den up under porches, and beaver and coyotes can ruin the cattle farmer's profits. Thus, we provide wildlife control for those who need and desire it. I won't get on my platform about it here, though.
  The other 2 businesses are solely mine, though I couldn't do either one without the support of my family. One is Zumba, which we've already discussed. The other is crocheting baby items for use as photo props. It's a fun past-time, but one that I barely have time for anymore.

6. Lady is a 90 lb. Labrador, Mac is a medium-sized Blue Healer, and Buddy is a poor unfortunate soul who needs a new home. No, really, someone please take him.

7 & 8. Buddy... He's sweet, really. He's just not a good fit for our family. I got suckered into taking him from a girl at school. I would really really LOVE it if I could find him a new home! (I'm a sucker, did I mention that?)

9. Acquaintances and friends. Big Difference. And I find that sometimes my acquaintances are friends I didn't know I had, and sometimes vice cersa, my friends are no more than acquaintances. Ce La Vie!

10. Cooking is not a passion for me, but it is something I enjoy when I have the time. I hate the cleaning-up part though. Momma says I'm like my Granny, because I'm never afraid to try new recipes, or even to change recipes in the middle. I even make them up from time to time, and I'm usually successful. Like the Cowboy Baked Beans. Those got rave reviews. I'll post the recipe another time.

So there ya go. A little info on me.
Happy Friday ya'll!

Girly Girl

I’m a diva at heart. I love having my nails done, my hair done, great clothes and cute shoes. In fact, My Zumba clothes make up about half of my wardrobe, because they are so stinkin’ cute! 

However, my spring/summer wardrobe is seriously lacking. Time for a trip to Goodwill! Yes, you heard me. This diva shops at Goodwill. While I appreciate keeping up with the latest styles, I also know that 1.) I can’t afford the latest styles brand new off-the-rack, and 2.) Most of the newest styles aren’t made to flatter my particular body and my tastes. For instance:

Hip hugging, low cut jeans. Um, no. I’m a full-grown woman, with all the curves that come with bearing 3 children into this world. I know exactly what happens when I try to put all my curves into those jeans. Bad plan, right there.  Top it with a skinny t-shirt, and it gets even worse.

Skinny t-shirts? Sometimes. Not often, and not the ones with the high tight necks on them. I’m over 6 feet tall, so that means I’m longer in the neck, chest and torso than most people. High necks are not flattering for me. 

High Heels? Not often! Again, I’m tall enough on my own, and I tend to look a little freakish in heels. Not happening. I do have 2 pairs of heels. One pair of dress shoes that look really classy with just about anything, and one pair of high-heeled boots that look great with my non-hip-hugging jeans.

And that leads us to Goodwill. I occasionally find some good bargains there, and I enjoy browsing the racks, if for no other reason than to occasionally exclaim, “Oh my gosh! Someone actually wore THAT??” It’s quite entertaining. And it’s great for getting clothes for the kids too, because they outgrow everything so fast. Why would I pay full price for anything, when I can buy all the kids clothes for $1.99 for each item? It’s a great bargain!

And this leads me to my point. I may be a Diva at heart, but I’m a bargain-hunting Diva. I do my own nails to save money. I usually do my own hair, but I’ve recently started seeing Kelci Dean at Hairsketcher’s in Owasso, OK. She’s fabulous, and treats me like family. Love her to pieces!

There are a few things I refuse to skimp on: Undergarments and Shoes! Nothing beats a well-fitted supportive bra, and I pay dearly for mine. They last a good long time too, so it’s actually a great bargain. As for shoes, I go through tennis-shoes like nobody’s business, so I don’t buy the cheap ones. I also prefer to be kind to my feet, since they are the only feet I’ll ever have, so I buy good, cushy, supportive shoes. They’re usually quite costly, but again, worth every penny.

I love being a Girly Girl, and I love the feeling of being a Diva and saving money at the same time! Now I’m off to get my hair done!

Moving on up

Something big is going to happen. Soon. Maybe. I hope.

One of my dreams is to own a home. To no longer rent and pay another person’s mortgage. To have a mortgage of my own, with a home and property to go with it. 

Over the last 7-8 years, I have looked at a few homes with the hope that something would pan out in my favor, and I would at last become a homeowner. All I ever became was disappointed.  The process has always gone like this: Me or My Sweet Hubby find something we want to look at. We go look at it, and because I’m an eternal optimist, I see POTENTIAL, and PROMISE, and WORKABLE. And so I ask my Daddy to go look, because Daddy is smart! He knows things about carpentry and buildings, and he’s bought several homes over the years, and he is my EXPERT. So Daddy goes and looks at the Potentially Promising Workable property and finds STRUCTURAL PROBLEMS, FINANCING ISSUES, or other THINGS THAT MAKE THE PROPERTY I WANT A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT.

And the despair sets in. And I give up. I quit looking. No one will finance us anyway, what’s the point? And then I stay in RENTAL HELL, and continue to pay someone else’s mortgage while licking my wounds, and believing that I’ll never have my dream. This process repeats itself every year or so. I find another Potentially Promising Workable Property, and Daddy looks at it, and shoots it down.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at Daddy. He’s awesome, and he knows things. And he’s usually right. 

And this time, Daddy is not letting me go through my PROCESS. He’s pushing me onward, in an effort to get me my dream. He’s telling me, look again. Don’t give up. Keep looking. Keep trying. Because my Daddy? Yup, He’s awesome. He knows things. He helps me. He loves me, and wants me and my family to have a place of our own. 

I’m a lucky lucky girl. A girl with a dream. And all the help I need to make it happen.

Thanks Daddy!