Not so Merry Christmas

So far not so good with the Holidays.

Last Saturday, as Erich and I were finishing (or trying to finish) our Christmas shopping, we got the dreaded call. One of our children had gotten hurt and we needed to come right away. Rose called, she was on her way to the scene. All we knew was that Clay had cut his leg. That's it. Amazingly enough, it took us mere minutes to get out of the mall and through the mall traffic and make it to Degarmo park, where our son was. I called Rose on our way, when I was sure she had time to evalute the seriousness of the situation. She told me that she thought that Clay may need some stitches. We got there, and sure enough, Erich and I agreed stitches were in order. 11 to be exact. First (and I'm sure not last) skateboarding injury.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. We made it the 2/3 of a mile to my in laws for dinner. We ate some hors d'oevres, and were just starting to get things on the table, when my mother in law announced that she needed butter. I told her we'd run home and grab some, since I had alot. Successful journey home, then, as we were crossing the intersection on a green light a white truck turned left in front of us, and just like the All State commercial, WHAM! We were in a serious car accident. No one was hurt, but the cars were totally disabled. We had to call 911, I was terrified. All I could think, this can't happen on Christmas Eve! We were only going 2/3 of a mile! Our Bronco (Thank God we were in the Bronco) was munched and possible totaled. Had we been in the Contour (our small car) I would have been seriously injured or even killed, we hit so hard, I haven't been in many car accidents in my life, and never one as bad as this one. It was terrifying. As I type this, I am experiencing the panic feeling in my chest. That feeling that won't go away. All of the what ifs...It's the most awful feeling. I have had no appetite for all of the wonderful holiday food. I have bruises on my hips. Bruises I look at and am so thankful I have. Had it not been for the seat belt and those bruises, I would be in either the hospital or worse yet...

I am so thankful that no one was seriously injured, bumps, bruises and the customary sore muscles, but all in all we both are OK. I got to celebrate the season with my children.

The shear fragility of life (even though no one was hurt) is so apparent to me right now. Seriously, we went to get a pound of butter 2/3 of a mile away. In less than 30 seconds everything could have been gone. I hugged my children tighter, I realized just how important each person in my life is. I have so taken for granted my parents, my children, my friends, the blink of an eye changed my whole world, for I do appreciate my family, my friends, all that I enjoy because of the glimpse I got of what could have been.

Thanksgiving 2008

I am gearing up for the drive home. I don't really want to drive tonight. I would much rather just be there, put my finger on the edge of my nose, and wham-o I'm there. But, no. I have to pack all of our stuff, shove it in the car, pile all five of the kids, two dogs and husband in two cars, listening to the kids fight about who rides with who, and then they will fight about who gets to sit in the front of whatever car they are riding in. Then, an hour and a half of the kids telling me that they have to go to the bathroom, and that they are bored, and "are we there yet". Woo hoo.
The last few days have been restful and relaxing. In spite of the fact that my parents get up at the crack of dawn, I have enjoyed myself. The kids have, for the most part, gotten along. I got to bake and make Thanksgiving dinner with my daughter. I also got to reconnect with a dear old friend.
Tonight, I will drive down the mountain, listening to the radio, turned up to drown out the volume of the fighting kids in the backseat, singing off key to the songs that I know, and the wrong words to the songs I think I know (but really don't), and changing the station when the songs I don't know come on. I will enjoy the last remnants of Thanksgiving, and then, I will walk into my messy house, with luggage, food and miscellaneous kids stuff. I will got to bed with a smile on my face, knowing that I thoroughly enjoyed my kids, my parents, and my friends. Tomorrow, the real world comes back. Work, housework, laundry, dishes, bills, all of the real world things that I have been able to avoid the last few days.
My daughter just came to me and asked me when we will leave. I guess it is time to end the vacation from my life, and return to the real world with all of its responsibilities, and with all of it's little joys.
I am so thankful for all that I have in my life. The material things, of course, but mostly all of the amazing people I have the privilege of having in my life.
Happy Thanksgiving!

And now there are 5

OK, I know it's been forever and a year since I posted. I am so busy, and I got tired of dial up (that was/is our internet connection at home) and I feel it is unethical to blog at work...at least for me...so I haven't been on top of it in forever.
In light of the fact that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I've been thinking about all I am thankful for.
I decided to get out of town for a few days, so I went to my parents' with my kids of course. My four biological children, and my "adopted" Mexican son (he always tells me that's what I'm supposed to call him). Now I have to explain...When we moved into our house 14 years ago, our neighbor two doors down had a baby a few months older than TJ. When Raul was about 18 months old, his family went to Mexico to help take care of a family members ranch. So, I didn't see him again until he was about 3. He was out riding his tricycle, and I was walking with Rose and TJ. Raul struck up a conversation with TJ, in Spanish, he'd only been back from Mexico for a few days. Fast forward a year or so. The boys were about 4 and they would play in the yard, and they were fast friends. Raul was speaking English now, so they could communicate. Raul was a fixture at our house all during the week. His little sister is 11 hours older than Clay. Over the years, he has spent untold hours at my house. A few years back, his parents got divorced, and this is when the "adoption" began. His mom got a full time job, and Raul was at my house more than he was at his own. He began to call me "Mom", and spent 5 out of 7 nights at our house. Now, he is a Freshman in high school, and is having difficulties with his dad, and his mom has moved to Hamilton City. He goes to Thanksgiving, Christmas, Family reunions, etc, with us. We had family pictures taken this summer, and Raul is part of our family. I love him like I bore him. He is a sweet boy, who has become an integral member of our family. He and TJ are best friends, but more than that, they are brothers. He is always telling people that he is my Mexican son. It confuses people, since TJ and Raul are built very similarly, and they are 8 months apart, and people who know me often wonder how I had a baby, with another father, in between TJ and Rose, since they are only 19 months apart, thus the Mexican son explanation.
I feel the same fierce protection for Raul, the Mother Bear instinct, that I feel for the children I have raised from birth. I watched him play football this year, and I worried about him, in the same manner I would my own son. It breaks my heart when my boy is hurt. When someone hurt his heart a few weeks ago, all I could do was hold him, cry for him, and experience that feeling I feel when any of my children are hurt. The fierce need to protect. He is my son. He is my son by choice.
I went to the Almond Bowl (Peanut Bowl for him, since he is a Freshman) and he was walking off of the field at the end of the game. He looked back and saw me sitting in the second row of the stands, and he blew me a kiss, made a heart with his hands, and pointed at me. My heart broke with the weight of love that I felt from this little boy whom I have watched grow into a remarkable teenager and whom I will watch grow into a remarkable man. He has told people he doesn't know what he would have done had he not been accepted into our family with open arms, I don't know what our family would be without him as a part of it.
So, there are pictures on my desk at work of my five children. My four biological children, and my adopted Mexican son. All five of them are blessings to me, and I can only hope that I have impacted and changed their lives as much as they daily impact and change my life. I am blessed, I am the mother of five children, whether they came in the "natural" way or in some other precious way, and each of them is a light in my life.

It's Been Awhile...

I know, I know, I know. It has been forever since I blogged. Life got too busy...That's all I have to say about that.

I am the proud mother of two, count them, two high schoolers. Wow. I don't even know what to write about that, except that I am extremely young to have any high schoolers!

The end of the school year has been hectic at best. I still love my job, even though it gets a bit crazy back there at the end of the year/getting ready for the beginning of the next school year!

I did sneak away for a few days last week. I went on a girls weekend at Fort Bragg. What a blast. I can't even start to tell all of the fun I had.

I am a prude. I have never smoked a cigarette, much less pot. I don't care what anyone else does, I just don't do it. There was quite a bit of that going on. I didn't know that pot can make people sleep really well, and snore really loudly. I HATE snoring. It really pisses me off. I feel rather cheated when I am sitting in bed wide awake, unable to catch even 1 Z, when someone is sleeping peacefully, yet loudly, just across the room. I must say it is one of the things that gets my goat. It really makes me angry, and just a tad grumpy.

On that note, the second night two of our 4 roommates came in at around 1 am, made tons of noise coming in, plopped onto their air mattress, which squeaked and moaned like nothing I have ever heard before, and then promptly trotted hand in hand off into sleepy land with Mr. Sandman. Shirley and I were wide awake at this point. Shirley is aware of my intolerance for snoring, fortunately she, like myself, is a non snorer. One of my darling toasted roommates snorted loud enough to wake the dead, I flopped over in the bed, then burst into gales of suppressed laughter, as I heard Shirley whisper "Oh, no, you didn't!" I laughed until I felt tears streaming down my face. After about 30 minutes of non stop snoring, I decided that I needed to go out of the room, before I did something I would regret. Shirley and I decided to go down to the beach (at 2:30 in the morning). Since there really wasn't much else we could do, if we didn't want to wake everyone.

We walked the two blocks to the pathway that overlooked the beach. We didn't have a flashlight, and were unsure of how high the tide would get, so we sat on the edge of the pathway, and watched the ocean in the moonlight. This was on Friday night, the night of lightning storms galore...there's another story there, but I digress...We watched lightning over the ocean, we listened to the quiet majesty of the ocean. The ocean noises are beautiful during the day, but seriously, heightened in the nighttime, when all of the world sleeps (and snores...). We talked and laughed and froze our living butts off. But, it was a time I will always remember and cherish, even though I was pissed that I wasn't getting to sleep.

We returned to our room at around 4 am, laid down and tried to doze until the sun came up and we could go back to the ocean. Which we did, when we were awakened from fitful sleep by yet more snoring.

Now, I have to tell you the lightning story...Each night that we were there, Shirley and I headed to the beach to watch the sunset. Friday night, we were heading to the beach to watch the sunset, and noticed a bit of lightning and thunder. No biggie. We got to the beach and were heading towards the ocean when I had the sensation of my forehead crawling. I thought there was a bug on my head, Shirley thought someone had slipped her some pot(OK, Shirley is a prude too...). We turned to look at each other to ask what was on our heads, and lo and behold, our hair was literally standing on end! We took pictures with our phones, if I knew how to download them, I would. It was a little scary, but magnificent at the same time. We watched the lightning from the beach, which I hear was rather risky of us, I guess you could say we walked on the wild side...

We were privy to sights that none of the others saw. We were down at the ocean at an unusually low tide on an atypical Fort Bragg morning. The sun was bright, the sky cloudless, we saw more starfish than we could keep track of. We walked forever and breathed the clean ocean air. We watched boats off the coast, we could see forever and felt so small next to the vastness of the ocean. Two mornings later, we walked in the opposite direction, and sat literally yards away from seals. Tons and tons of seals. The seals put on a little show for us in the ocean mere feet away from where we sat. To our left, on the beach about 100 feet away were 6 seals lying on the beach. I have been to the coast many times, but never in my life been as close to the wildlife as I was Sunday morning. We sat for an hour on the rocks, until our butts could stand (or sit) no more. We walked away a bit sad that we were heading home.

Monday morning, I woke up, my first thought was to walk the beach...oops, nope, I'm back home and back to reality.

I love the ocean. I feel so peaceful, rested and alive when I am at the coast. I'm fortunate that I live in a place where I can easily reach the ocean in a matter of hours. I wish I lived closer, but, I love where I live too. For other reasons, this is where my dear friends are, the people who have cared for me, the people who love me and want the best for me.

I'm getting a bit sappy, and I am tired from being back in the real world for the last two days...

Two Weeks Late...

Ha, not that! I'm just two weeks late in blogging. The ol' computer was down. Sorry, Tricia.

The last two weeks have been busy and full of life. That is the story of my life. The first week back from vacation was the quickest week of my life. Then the week following that was the slowest week. Then this last week was just you normal run of the mill busy week.

My C. He is the sweetest boy ever. And the most annoying. He whines. This is his new 11 1/2 year old trait. It is driving me to the brink of insanity. But, the child has a heart as big as the whole outdoors. At least when it comes to me.

Ever since he was a wee one he has always saved the last bite of something yummy for me. If he has ice cream, the last bite is for me. If he has a cookie, the last bite is for me. If he has a candy bar, the last bite, yep you guessed it, for me. I am thoroughly convinced that this child of mine will be the one to feed me in my old age when I am no longer able to feed myself. When I was pregnant with M, C would rub my belly, rub my back, and when I was in the bathtub would come in and pour water over my huge belly, and talk to me about what's important to a 3 year old. He is my love. He is my champion. If someone offends me, says something negative about me, or in any way is unkind to me, that person is forever an enemy to him. He will stand up for me until the end. He is also my child who has been blessed with a learning "disablity". Because of this, I in turn, have to be his champion. I have to advocate for him in the school system. I have to explain to him, that it is OK to be dyslexic. That it doesn't mean he is dumb.

I have tried to be honest with him about the difficulties involved with dyslexia, I have also tried to teach him that dyslexia is not an excuse for not trying. He will sometimes have to try harder than the average kid. A week ago I found out what a sweet boy I have. A friend of his has an older sister. She is in the 6th grade at one of the local junior highs. She is dyslexic also. She attended a special school to help her learn better how to cope with her challenge (I hate calling it a disability). She failed a spelling test, her teacher called her into class to ask her what was going on. She was devestated that she had to try to explain that she can't spell. That letters just don't go together in the "normal" way for her. She was understandably upset when she got into the car. C was there with his friend, and listened as the sister talked about how dumb she felt. C said, "Why don't you just tell your teacher that you can't spell? I have dyslexia, and I need extra help, so I just have to let the teacher know I can't spell. It doesn't mean you're stupid, it means you can't spell good." The mom called me and told me that it warmed her heart to hear my boy try to encourage someone dealing with some of the same issues. He is a good boy.

He is whining up a storm today. He went to a sleepover last night. I am frustrated with him to no end. I decided that tonight is the night I need to dwell on the positive about him. I know he's tired. I know he's 11 1/2. I know life stinks sometimes when you are 11/12. Just posting about the sweetness of him lifts a bit of the dark cloud I have put over him.

Sidenote: Tricia, I pinky swear that next Friday or Saturday, I will post.

The Joy of Being the Mother of an Irish Dancer

My daughter is an Irish Step Dancer. She saw Riverdance when she was about 4 years old and decided she wanted to be an "Ilish dancer" (she didn't say her "r"s so well). Now, 11 years later she is a mere 1st place away from being eligible to audition for Riverdance when she becomes an adult.

Needless to say, St. Patrick's Day is a big day for her. She is in great demand. It began the Saturday before the big day and continued throughout Monday. Actually, it began on that Friday. She has yearly danced on or close to St. P's Day at our school's All School Sing since she began dancing when she was 8. So, basically, it's a tradition. I picked her up to dance and then I had to run her back to the high school. She's running track this year. She's running the 100 hurdles right now, and occasionally the 4 x 400 relay. She is doing well and enjoying it alot. She was invited to the invitational at Chico High. The only freshman. (Yes, I'm bragging a bit) She raced the 100 hurdles and placed 4th, with a time of 19 seconds. This time advanced her to the finals. Did I happen to mention that she was the only freshman? She didn't finish very well in the finals, her time was 21.5. She said that her rythm got off. This was her first real track meet. She participated in practice meet the Wednesday prior to the real meet. She really amazes me, and makes me so very proud.

She had to dance Saturday at the Shamrock Shuffle at Chico State. She had to be there at 8:30 am. She was and she was ready to dance. In spite of the fact that she had a nasty headache and was coming down with a cold or a sinus infection or something. She danced for 2 hours at the Shamrock Shuffle, for another hour at the Home and Garden Show, and then for another 30 minutes at Oakmont, a senior assisted living facility. She talked with the elderly residents, and charmed them all. Sunday, we had the day off, but not the evening. She had been invited to dance at the Chico Women's Club at a ceili (kaylee) they were throwing. She danced for 15 mintes and floated on air around the room. It nearly always brings tears to my eyes to watch her dance. I stand in awe to know that she is part of me, and that I had anything to do with creating such grace and beauty. Monday, we were up at the crack of dawn (4:45 am to be exact) to be on "Wake Up!" on channels 12 & 24. She had been invited to dance on the news! What an interesting, exciting experience that was. She and 2 other girls danced on TV. R was the designated speaker, so she got to talk too! We raced home and were home at 7 am, and at 9 am we were at another assisted living facility for her to dance. She danced at two other retirement homes that day, then packed her stuff up and with a fellow dancer went downtown and danced in front of Duffy's (her dance teacher was dancing inside the bar). She made $40 in 1 1/2 hours of dancing. She was exhausted.

I got to drive her all of the places she needed to go. Our relationship has improved greatly in the last 6 or so months. I love her so very much and daily I am reminded that my time with her in my home is growing so short. She is amazing, creative, beautiful, talented, humble, kind, and I still sometimes wonder where she really came from. I love each and every one of my children fiercely, and find wonderful things about them all.

I have promised myself, that I must blog at least once a week. I need to blog. It makes me find the wonderfulness of my life.

San Francisco

Well, my 11 year old's class had a field trip to San Francisco and stayed on the Balculutha Thursday night. I took two days off of work to drive down and stay in a hotel room with some friends, while C worked on the ship and other parents were "tall sailors". I did not volunteer to be a tall sailor, I don't like being cold that much.

Thursday we were to be at school at 8 am. My children couldn't remember any of their stuff, so we were late! My truck was the hauling vehicle for all of the kids' stuff. We loaded it up and were out of the parking lot by 8:30. It was raining and miserable all the way down to SF. We made it in about 3 hours, the directions were wrong, they said to stay to the left, but then you had to take the right hand exit...fortunately, I know SF well enough, that we took the scenic route, and it only took us about 10 extra minutes.

We got the kids unloaded and onto the Eureka to get ready for their big day/night on the boat, and we headed off to park our cars and check into the hotel. My truck wouldn't fit into the parking garage. So, I parked on the street to wait for the others to park then we were going to check into our hotel, and begin our fun afternoon. The red battery light turned on in the truck. I called Erich and asked him about it. He said bad words, then said that the alternator was going out and I had to turn it off right now! I was parked in a passenger loading zone waiting for my friend to park her car. I tore off to the hotel and parked there, checked into the hotel, and headed back to the parking garage to meet my friends. I was stressed out beyond words, Erich was going to take a half day off and drive to SF to replace the alternator in the truck then drive back home. I made arrangements for the kids back in Chico, and tried to not stress out too badly.

Let me take you on a side road for a minute. EVERY CAR WE HAVE EVER OWNED HAS BROKEN DOWN ON ME!!! I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and very concerned that Erich would be majorly pissed off about having to come fix the truck.

He made it to SF by 5:30 that evening. Replaced the alternator in 1/2 hour, and headed back to Chico at 6 pm. He was the hero. He does have his good qualities (I'm trying). Then the fun began.

We walked all over the Wharf and went to a cute Irish pub for dinner and some beer. We drank too much and had a lot of fun. We walked back to the hotel, and met some Australian men, who were rather funny, and tried to follow us to our room, we got in trouble from security for making too much noise. All in all, we had a really good time.

Friday, we picked the sleepy, wet, starving sailors up and headed to In -n- Out and then back to home sweet home. C and I got home at about 4:15. He wanted a bath, so I stuck him in the tub, left T with him, and ran out to pick up M. When I got home at about 4:45, C was sitting on the chair, practically drooling on his own lap, exhausted. I took him to bed.

Erich and I had tickets to a benefit dinner for Larry Juanarena, a local restraunt owner who is terminally ill, so I had to hurry up and get ready, Erich came home and we rushed out for that.

Long story short, C slept for 15 hours! I don't think I have ever seen that child sleep that many hours consecutively ever! He woke up and seemed quite refreshed.

This goes to show, that my life can never be all that easy. It always has to have a monkey wrench thrown in.

Hit me With Another Round of Antibiotics!

Mid January the flu hit my house. Our 7 year old was hit first and hard. He was throwing up and had a fever of 103.7. He was sick sick sick for four days. Finally, the fever broke and he seemed to feel better. He went back to school Monday, kicking, fighting and screaming all of the way. He sat in the office for thirty minutes, until one of the aides convinced him to go to class. Then Tuesday, he sat in the office (after throwing fits) for 1 hour until the principal got there. Then, Wednesday, he refused to leave the parking lot. I decided to walk him to class, after he landed a couple good swift kicks to my left shin, my good friend Trish grabbed him, and I took the babies and the two Funny Frogs and went to my office. After she held onto him for about a half an hour he went to class. Repeat performance on Thursday. We tried bribes, threats the works. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, Thursday he told us that a boy he sits next to was calling him stupid. We took care of that. Friday, he went reluctantly but without any major fights.

Begin the week again on Monday, again tears and screaming and kicking, I dragged him to class not once, not twice, not three times, but four times. He kept saying he had to go to the bathroom, and refusing to go back to class.

He was coughing almost uncontrollably, every time he moved. I decided to take him to the dr. Monday night. Sure enough, he had an ear infection and bronchitis again. Tuesday he was home from school, and started a round of antibiotics. Wednesday we had another hard day. But, then Thursday, exactly 48 hours after beginning antibiotics, he miraculously was cured of his tantrum throwing ways.

So, in case any body else wanted it, I got bad mom of the year award for the weeks of Jan 28 through Feb 7. I know I really wasn't being a bad mom, but it kinda makes ya feel bad when your baby has been feeling sick (even though he wasn't expressing those feelings with words) for about two weeks and I've been dragging a sick child to school. He wasn't feverish, just coughing. Sigh. I guess he needs something to talk about in therapy.

I don't know what I would have done without Trish though! She was a lifesaver. Becasue, she could step in and be calm, and not angry, no power struggles, just relief for me.

I came down with "The Cold" over this last weekend. I felt awful and spent the better part of two days in my bed. But, I am feeling much better now. Moms aren't supposed to be sick for too terribly long, ya know. Besides, who would drag me to work kicking and screaming? Trish?

My Pants Don't Fit and Other Random Thoughts

After 3 months of a desk job, I can't seem to button my jeans. Well, I guess I can button them, they just don't button easily. I vowed to eat better, and walk everyday, and try to get healthier...but it started to rain...and wind...and storm...so, I decided to wait to walk, and I might as well eat...

This is the heartbreaker. My son T. Sunday night, he was trying to find what he was going to wear to school. He went into his room, and didn't come out for awhile, so I walked in to check on him. He was sitting dejectedly in the middle of the floor of his room. I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "Mom, I'm tired of being fat. I'm tired of being reminded by other people every day that I am fat. I know I'm overweight, why do people have to remind me?" Talk about breaking a mother's heart. I didn't really know what to say. I know (as most other mothers do) that he will grow into his bulk as he hits puberty. That's what his uncles did, he takes after them. But, I also know that those are empty meaningless words to a 13year old boy who feels fat. I told him that we could start to walk and eat right and that would help, but, he just had to wait until he started to grow. We went for a walk early Monday morning and had some really nice mom & son time. He told me about a day during break, when he went to the skate park with a friend and his dad. T was getting ready to drop into the bowl to skate, and some lady that was there, told him that he was too fat to skate it. I think I felt a little homicidal. I can't believe anyone would feel it's OK to say that to any other person. That takes guts.

I tend to be a bit of a Mama Bear. I get fiercely protective of my babies. I try to remain somewhat objective, in most cases. But, something like that just boils my blood.

On a different tangent, my daughter's friend is still without power. I talked to her dad, who is mightily ticked I might add, and he said that PG&E told him that they don't know when his power will be restored. They have lost all of the food in their refrigerator. All of it. A is staying with a friend for the night, so that she can dry her hair after she takes her shower. S & J are showering at the gym! This is insane. To say the least.

Well, homework is beckoning. Three boys with homework homework homework.

Fifteen

My baby girl is 15 years old. I really can't believe that 15 years ago, I had a new baby girl in my arms. I reguarly brag about her and all of her accomplishments. So I won't go into all of the ways I think she's wonderful...too much...I really can't believe that I have a 15 year old. I really can't possibly be old enough to have a 15 year old.

The years have flown. I really can't believe that I thought she would be a baby forever and that I would never sleep again. She was a horrible sleeper. I was exhausted, sick and overwhelmed when I brought her home from the hospital on January 3, 1992. I didn't really know what I was going to do with her. I had babysat before, but, to be ultimately responsible for her! Wow.

Let me tell you her story...

I was 21 years old. I lived with my parents and worked for my parents, and I felt trapped and like I would live at home forever. Enter Erich. He rescued me. But, my parents hated him. I got pregnant. I hid my pregnancy for as long as I could. I was in denial. Erich and I decided to get married. We planned our wedding in 10 or 12 days. We got married, I was 7 months pregnant (and just starting to show...). I had not gone to the doctor throughout my pregnancy, because I was denying to myself even that I was pregnant. I went to my first appointment, and was promptly put on bedrest. I was dilated to 1 and 80% effaced. We made it through all of that.

December 28, 1992, I went to the doctor for my regular appointment, I was due January 11, and had a little bit longer to go. The dr. checked me and seemed rather concerned. Fourtunately Erich was with me at this particular appointment. The dr. told me that the baby was in a transverse breech position and due to the fact that I was small and didn't seem to have a whole lot of amniotic fluid, he was not willing to try to turn "him". I was dilated to 3 cm, and having relatively regular (though unfelt) contractions. I needed to schedule a C section ASAP, and go home, go to bed and not do anything until I could get into the hospital. If I had any felt contractions, or if my water broke, I was to go directly to the hospital. The C section was scheduled for December 30. We went home in shock. I did everything I was told.

December 30 I went to the hospital and started getting prepped for surgery. This included a sonogram. The sonogram gave us some very bad news. The sonogram showed that the baby was about 4 pounds. That it was probably a boy. It also indicated that my dates were wrong and I was not actually 38 weeks pregnant, I was about 28-32 weeks pregnant. I was dilated to 5 by now, and having very regular (though still unfelt) contractions, so there was no choice but to deliver the baby, fly him to Sacramento, and hope for the best.

We were terrified. We were young and overwhelmed.

At 12:34 pm, December 30, 1992, our "premature boy" was pulled from my belly, screaming HER head off and 6 lbs. 11 oz. She was absolutely beautiful. Her APGARs were outstanding, and she didn't need to be flown anywhere or have any treatments whatsoever due to being early. She had jaundice but that isn't uncommon. Erich named her (on his own, I might add) after his great grandmother and my mom. I didn't know what her name was or that she even had a name, until I was brought into recovery. Honestly, I didn't like it at first, but after a few days, I realized her name fit her perfectly.

We ended up in the hospital for a total of 5 days due to her jaundice and I got a strep B infection.

She was unplanned. But, oh, my she definitely was the highlight of my life. I never knew I could love anyone like I love her. She is amazing, and has been from the day she was born.

Merry Christmas to all,

and to all an augmentin, amoxcycillin, hydromet cocktail. These are the drugs of choice in my household this Holly Jolly Season. My Christmas holiday began on Friday, December 21. I ran out to do the food shopping, which went surprisingly well. When I got home, the plan was to clean and make cookies, and spend an enjoyable afternoon home with my four lovely children. At around 2 pm, M started screaming hysterically, running around the room, holding his head and crying uncontrollably. After trying to calm him somewhat, I discovered that he had an earache. Which meant he probably had an ear infection, because he had been sick all week with "the cough" and a bit of a fever. I rushed him over to Prompt Care for some help. Really all I wanted was the magic ear drops that take away the pain. A prescription for amoxcycillin, albuterol, a breathing treatment, and two hours later, we were on our way home. He had a double ear infection and bronchitis. We were due to leave for my parents house the next day. They live in the mountains at about 4,000 feet elevation. So, that looked like it was out. I picked up C from his friend's house, and he appeared to have "the cough". He wasn't running a temperature or anything, yet, just had "the cough". Saturday, he woke up with a fever and "the cough" which caused him to throw up three times before 10 am. So, back to Prompt Care. This time we left with a prescription for Prednisone (C has asthma), no antibiotics, and a pat on the back. We spent the next afternoon, and the following day in misery. C was so incredibly sick. He wasn't eating anything. He was coughing constantly, and throwing up from the coughing. The inhaler wasn't working, the prednisone wasn't helping. So, Christmas Eve day, I called Prompt Care and asked if I should bring him back in, his fever was higher, and he was not getting any better. They told me to wait three more days! I decided to visit Immediate Care with him. Get a second opinion. I knew my boy was very sick. There, we got a prescription for Augmentin, another albuterol inhaler, and hydromet which is a vicodin based cough syrup (as my little brood are all allergic to codeine). The doctor we saw actually listened to me and looked at C for more than 2 seconds, and told me that I was right, I had a very sick little boy, who definitely had bronchitis and was not getting any better.

Christmas Eve was spent at my in laws home with my sick boys. I had to bring along the drugs. C has to take his with food, and M has to take his three times a day. C and I left immediately after opening gifts to come home to some peace and quiet, and he needed to take the cough syrup so that hopefully, the poor guy could get a little bit of rest.

Fortunately, due to prevailing illness, the kids didn't get up at the crack of dawn. They slept in until 7 am. Actually, C and M would have slept longer but T couldn't contain his excitement, and woke us all.

Santa was good to all. R said she didn't expect to get everything she wanted and she did. I'm so very happy. I have the most amazing daughter. She collected pictures of her and her brothers, and she made a DVD for me with music and a photo montage. She is so wonderful. I cried those happy/sad tears. Happy, because I felt so loved, sad, because the years have so flown.

My boys all put thought into their gifts for me. I was touched beyond words. I am a lucky woman to have children who love me so.

Well, another dose of amoxcycillin is due. So, I have to go bribe M into taking it yet again. I think we promised him a dollar for each time he swallowed the nasty stuff, and he's up to $11 now. (I know bribery is bad, but he needed to take the medicine and I was willing to offer him just about anything if he'd just take it without a fight).

Merry Christmas.

The Tru Family Gift Giving Profile

My mother in law emailed me a couple of weeks ago with a suggestion that we should each (her, my father in law, 2 brothers in law and my sister in law) fill out a gift giving profile which includes the following items, Name, age, shirt size, pants size, shoe size, color preference, interests, and wish list.

OK. Our family isn't so large that it's easy to forget everyone. There are only three sons, 2 daughters in law, and 4 grandchildren. It isn't like we are incredible spread out either. My brother and sister in law live in LA. But, their interests don't really change. We know them.

My in laws live literally 2/3 of a mile away from us. Before Thanksgiving, they hadn't seen my younger boys since the beginning of the school year. Not, because I have denied them their grandchildren either. They don't ask. I could begin a rampage about these grandparents that would last pages and pages. I choose not to do that right now. Suffice it to say that they are less than desirable in the grandparent arena. Which, I am fine with, generally. I get irritated when stupid things like gift giving profiles are entered into my life. I got no less than 5 emails (that is how my Mother in law communicates with me) reminding me to fill out the damn profile. I finally did. But as sparingly as possible. My feeling is if they don't know Erich after 36 years, and me after 15 years, and our children well enough to creatively purchase presents, I would rather them not.

Let me tell you, my brothers in law and sister in law's profiles were filled out much the same as ours. Sparingly. But, my mother and father in laws profiles were very precisely filled out. Too bad I already got my mother in law a gift, and it's not on her damn profile.

Can you tell I'm a bit bitter about this? I just feel as though it takes away from the joy of choosing and purchasing gifts for your family. It seriously annoys me, and on some level, I believe, offends me.

I enjoy Christmas, with my children. I don't enjoy all of the hooplah around it. Including visiting the in laws and pretending that we are one big happy healthy family. That family is sick sick sick. I don't particularly enjoy even going to my parents home for the holidays, because it's really kind of boring and the pressure is amazing, but it's much more enjoyable by far than the in laws.

This year, I am trying to not let myself dread the upcoming festivities. I am trying to keep a positive attitude.

On another note...Last night, the family and I went to the Stansbury House Christmas. It was so fun. I am a huge lover of history. I have wanted to visit the Stansbury House since I moved to Chico, I just have been unable to make it to visit during their unpredictable hours. We heard the ad for the annual Christmas tour and jumped on it. I am ready to volunteer there. If you live in the Chico area, you HAVE to make it a point to visit this home at some time. It was donated to the city when the last living child of Dr. Stansbury died. She left all of the original furnishings, carpet and wallpaper. It is really amazing! She was born in the house in 1883 and died there in 1974. after living in the house her entire life. She graduated from Chico High, and was an art teacher there as her career. I can't wait to go back someday and hear more stories, and ask more questions. I was truly amazed and thoroughly enjoyed it. And, the kids had their picture taken with Ol' St. Nick. What a fun evening.

Well, tonight it Erich's work holiday party. I have a little shopping to do, to find some accessories to wear with my dress. It's totally windy and freezing today, of course, so I will probably freeze my tootsies off tonight. Oh, well, free dinner...

I Don't Have Time!

This is what I mumble, yell, say at least 300 times a day. It has become distressing to me that the thing I say most frequently is that I don't have time. I don't have time to come into the house after school and sit down with my kids and watch TV or read them a book or help with homework. Because, after working at a job all day, I have to go grocery shopping, run errands, go to DMV...and I just don't have time.

I really don't enjoy that aspect of myself. I begin my morning knowing that I don't have time. I don't have time to lovingly wake my boys and make them breakfast. I rush in and turn on the light and tell them to get up...NOW! Then I run out, then as I dash by their bedroom 15 times in 20 minutes, I holler in the door, "Get up now! I don't have time!" How sad is that?

Over the last week I have noticed how often I say that. Too many times. I am feeling a bit guilty. I feel so rushed and overwhelmed. I know that I should enlist the older kids to help out, but, then I am flooded with guilt for making them pick up the loose ends because I work...I know that is completely irrational. But, I have been a stay at home mom for the last 12 years. I only came into the workforce part time(20 hrs. a week)last year, before that, I only worked about 10 hours a week. Which was great when I had a little one at home, and in Kindergarten.

I'm not complaining, I am not lamenting my job. I love it. I love that I am at the school, and C can pop in and tell me "Hi" off and on. I love that when I forget to put a bandaid on that nasty staph infected bump on his arm, all I have to do is call his teacher and have him sent to ME. I love that I get paid for what I do. I love that I have benefits. I guess what is bothering me is that I have spoiled my family having been a stay at home mom for so long, and they don't know how to take care of themselves or help me out. Thus, the house is a disaster, I am overwhelmed, and contemplating the benefits of too much alcohol.

I don't know how to voice my needs. I don't know how to accept help from anyone. I am a caretaker. I am a MOM. I have learned so much about myself and my weaknesses through having children. They kind of bring you to a point of self realization. But, one of the things I haven't learned is how not to spoil them rotten. I run myself ragged for them. I love them desperately. I can't even put it into words. But, I can't help but think that I do them a disservice by not teaching them to step up and help out. To recognize someone in need and just help, not because of the pay, not because there is anything in it for them, just because it's the right thing to do. I know that they are great kids and would help out a perfect stranger, or friends, but when they watch me running from one end of the house to the other, doing at least 3 things at once, it would be nice to hear one of them take the initiative to take one of the things off of my to do list. I think I have fallen into whining, so I will stop...

There are only 18 more shopping days until Christmas, no, I am not nearly done. Not even close. There is alot to do next pay day. I'm trying to keep a good attitude as I fight the Christmas crowds. We have all but one of the BIG presents, it's all of the piddly stuff that's left.

Next post...my experience with my Mother in Law's Gift Giving Profile....

Randomness at it's Finest

I'm tired. I have a headache. And Tricia guilted me into posting again. ARGH.

No really, if not for Tricia I probably would forget about blogging all together.

The new job is going well. I am very busy all of the time. I like it. I'm loving the money. I can't complain.

The kids are doing well. M had his eyes screened for the 2nd grade vision screening and the nurse suggested that we visit the eye doctor. Which we did (because we have insurance thanks to the new job) and lo! and behold, the little man needs glasses. He has and astigmatism in his left eye and his vision isn't so hot in his left eye. So, hopefully, specs will help him see better and will help him with his reading. My eye appointment is December 5, I already know that I have an astigmatism. My eyes have been bugging me more lately, since I am at a computer all day. So, I am sure that I will be bespectacled after the 5.

Thanksgiving was OK. We had a fabulous morning. Erich and I took the boys to upper park and hiked Monkey Rock and then headed over to Bear Hole and hiked around there. It was a beautiful day here, and we actually got a little warm with all that exercise. We had a nice meal with my in laws. I only had to make mashed potatoes. Not to strenuous.

Friday after Thanksgiving I met my high school best friend for breakfast. I had a nice time with her. I seem to only see her on the big holidays when she's in town to visit her parents. Of all of my friends from my younger years, she is the only one who consciously makes an effort to keep in contact.

After breakfast, I raced home to pack all the kiddies and myself and I drove up to my parents house in Shingletown. We ate another Thanksgiving meal and relaxed and enjoyed each other's company.

Saturday my dad had the boys cutting wood and stacking wood, they had fun, and I didn't have to do it! Then we went to see Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. I fell asleep. What can I say. If I sit still too long, the eyes, they get heavy. I couldn't help it. I've always been that way. I fall asleep even during movies I really want to see. I just can't stay awake if I get too still. Oh, well, it was a cute movie.

We then headed into town to look at the lights in downtown Redding. It was amazing. A man there has taken his own time and money and decorated a block of downtown Redding. There is a toy store, Santa Claus, Christmas music, a huge Christmas tree every inch lighted. I took M to sit on Santa's lap, who was a very neat man, I might add. He spent a good 5 minutes talking to M. It was the first time M had been to visit the jolly old elf. I know, he's 7 and I'm a bad mom. At least we made it before he was 14.

Then Sunday was back home and to laundry, a bit of Christmas shopping, and real life. Monday we were back to school and work.

The break went very fast. But, it was nice. I am not ready for the challenge of Christmas shopping, because it just doesn't seem possible that Christmas is a mere 27 days away. Ugh. The shopping, the wrapping, the decorating, the parties, the goodies, the merriment...am I ready? Then to top all of that off my mother in law sent me a form to fill out for everyone in my family (the kids, me and Erich) she emailed me the form as an attachment to an email. It is the "Gift Giving Personal Profile" To be filled out and emailed to all pertinent gift buyers. Such things included on the profile are size, (shoes, shirt, pants) color preference, hobbies and interests.

Here's my beef, she is my children's grandmother. She lives 2/3 of a mile away, why doesn't she know her grandchildren well enough to just Christmas shop for them? Why do I have to take time out of my busy day to illuminate her on the likes and dislikes of her grandchildren? Besides, Erich is her SON!!! Doesn't she know him well enough to purchase a Christmas gift for him? Holy $%*(!!!

Anyhow, onto the Family Tree project for 2nd grade. I guess I have to help M write down our family traditions, and on Dec 12 I will be making the most difficult cookie to make! So he can take it to class. That's the kind of mom I am.

Here ya go, Tricia!

Oh, my. It has been a long time since I blogged. I've been a bit on the preoccupied side.
I got a new job. Full time. I love it. I'm still at the school with my kids, just not doing the Instructional Aide thing or the Yard Duty (yippee! I can't say I miss the outdoor elements or the drama...although I do miss the kids...). I am now in the office, doing accounts receivable, lunch program, learning accounts payable and apparently going to be learning the ordering process soon. I love being inside, I like getting to dress like a girl, and I like the challenge and learning new things. I feel so lucky and blessed that I was granted this opportunity.
October 10 was my 15th wedding anniversary...Before anyone gets all gushy wondering what romantic weekend getaway we went on...My husband is in Idaho and has been since October 7. He left in the wee hours of the morning 6 days ago to hunt for our 15th wedding anniversary.
I have never been, nor ever will be interested in roughing it camping or in hunting, anything. I am a girl. I like to use flush toilets. I don't particularly like the mountains, I'm more of a coastal kind of California girl. I don't mind that he has interests outside of me. I rather like it. I don't want to have to say excuse me when I turn around because he is attached to my hip. I like having a bit of independence...
The thing that has been instigating my mid-life crisis, is that I realized that my life is much easier when I don't have him around. He has told me for the whole 15 years that we've been married that he wants me to be OK with him going and doing the things he likes and he doesn't want me to make him feel guilty for leaving us behind. I have gotten there. In the last 7 years or so, I have gotten to the point where I really don't care if he is here or if he isn't. I have been happy when he has chosen us, and fine with him choosing his interests. It seemed like a nice place to be emotionally, I wasn't feeling all left behind and put off. I just kind of let him live his life his way and he could be involved with the kids and me if he chose.
A month ago I realized that I prefer him being gone. It is much easier for me to take care of business without him to take my time. I have a lot to do, and I have done it all on my own for the last 15 years. I have had little to no help raising the kids. I don't want to start a "Let's hate Erich" club and whine about all of the ways he is a butthead. I just realized that I have settled for less than I deserve. I deserve to be higher on someone's priority list than a close 3rd to shooting. I deserve to be #1 and I deserve to have the person I am with understand that my birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas and our wedding anniversary are important not to be forgotten or taken lightly dates. I deserve to be with a man who is not worried about how things look, as long as he's happy with me and with our children. Looks are deceiving.
He learned the art of game playing with some masters. His parents are all about how things look. As long as it looks pretty on the outside with a nice little bow then that means everything inside is beautiful, right? I have become disenchanted with that way of thinking. I choose not to play that game anymore. I don't have to make everything look great on the outside, I can be a real person and let people into my real world.
I am reconsidering my life...I'm not considering abandoning my children, husband and life and running off to the big city to pursue my acting dream (I really don't have one), I am just realizing that marrying young, insecure as I was, forced me to settle for way less than I ever should have.
I am almost 40 (it's a mere 4 years away, the blink of an eye), and I don't want to look back on my life through angry, bitter eyes when I am 60. I want to look back and know that I was loved beyond measure. Not just loved by my children, but also the father of my children.
I read somewhere that the best gift a father can give to his children is to love their mother with all of his heart. I think of that quote often, and realize that my children have not seen their father love me with all of his heart. They have watched him choose racing, hunting, shooting, fishing, friends, his dad, so many other things first. They have waved good bye to him as he leaves on yet another vacation spent with friends or his dad and brother. They laugh at the stories he shares about his vacation, but share no memories with him. It makes me sad for them. It makes me sad for me. It used to make me sad for him, but the scary thing is that I don't feel sad for him anymore.
Things have to change. This is the turning point. I'm not saying I want him to live in my back pocket and sneeze when I tell him to. I just want some semblance of a family. You know, families that go on picnics, or out to dinner, or on family vacations. A real honest to goodness family. I don't know if he is willing to invest himself in that. And, how I am feeling right now, I don't know if I really want him to.
It's a tough position I am in. I don't want my children to be children of divorce. But, I also don't want them to think that what has been our life is OK. I want them to see (when they're adults of course) the sacrifices emotionally, financially, etc that parents make for their children. I want them to experience having a dad. Not just a man who comes home and sits in his chair, or comes home to pack up for his next great adventure without them. They and I deserve so much more.
Ugh. This post is kind of depressing, but, honestly, it really bares part of my soul. So, Friends, go easy on me.

Pour some sugar on me!

OH MY GOSH! I got to go to a Def Leppard concert!!!! It was so much fun! A friend won tickets and had extras and gave them to me and another friend so we could go! We had so much fun! Not only did we see Def Leppard, but we saw Foreigner and Styx too! OH MY GOSH! I think I screamed that so many times Friday night. What a blast.
I sang every Foreigner song, didn't know too many Styx songs, and scream/sang every Def Leppard song. I just can't say it enough times, it was so fun.
Then, the weekend (is there a such thing?) began. My 7 year old had a soccer game and pictures at 10 am. Then, my daughter wanted to go to the mall. Then, I had to take her to dance class, and then meet her downtown as she was dancing with the Pub Scouts. Then, off to the bowling alley, I had promised my 7 year old we'd bowl...he really enjoys it!
Then Sunday, was cleaning the house and trying to make a dent in the laundry.
Did I mention that I think I began having a mid life crisis (at 36...oh I mean 29?). I think I'll save that for another post, when I've thought through the many things floating around in my head.
Suffice it to say, the highlight of my weekend was the concert. I wish I could go again this weekend. No, I think that my friend and I will go Xtreme bowling...I'll let you know.

Oh! What a Beautiful Day!

Wednesday, the 5th, was my birthday. I am 29 (for the 7th time!). I had the most amazing day.
I woke up at 5:30 as I do every morning, and shuffled to the computer to check my email, and catch up on any overnight news. Really, it's how I give myself an extra 10 to 15 minutes to wake up. Hanging on my computer was a sign, it said, "Good Morning, Sunshine! Are you ready to go hunting?" Then I turned it over and it directed me to the refrigerator. I opened the refrigerator, and there is another card with instructions to look in the pantry. I looked there and found the instructions leading me to the oven. There I found a beautiful card that my daughter made for me. She is a budding photographer, and had taken a picture of a telephone shaped bronze music box that we inherited from my husband's grandmother. I can't describe the beauty of the picture. Inside was the gift of a pedicure given by my daughter. I cried. Happy, touched tears.
My boys woke up and told me happy birthday. My One Tru Love FORGOT. We went to school, I dropped the boys off and decided to treat myself to a decaf frappucinno and a cinnamon roll. I got back to school, my son C's class was lined up outside of his classroom, I didn't pay much attention, and as I walked past them, they broke out in song. Happy Birthday...of course. It really made me smile. As I made my way to the office, every student and staff member wished me a happy birthday. I figured my boys had been busy. NO. The principal announced at flag salute to give me a hug and wish me happy birthday.
I got pretty much 430 hugs. I loved it. It was great. My good friend Trish brought me a decaf iced mocha (it was so delightful). A 6th grader organized the K-2nd graders lunch to sing to me. The middle schoolers sang to me. It was so moving. I really felt loved and happy all day.
My One Tru Love was reminded that it was my birthday, and he made a rush purchase at a day spa for a massage for me. Which I am completely excited about. All in all it really was such a wonderful day.
My "adopted son" (my son T's best friend who calls me mom) got me a cute little teddy bear holding a heart saying Love is Mom and the sweetest card. I was truly spoiled like I've never been spoiled before.
As a mom, T.A. and yard duty supervisor (I know, such a fancy title), it's easy to feel unappreciated and unnoticed. September 5th really showed me that I am appreciated, loved and that I have touched the lives of the kids I work with everyday.
I have to say that I woke up that morning, feeling pretty low. Just one of those mornings, I drug myself out of bed, tired, and just not anticipating a day of work, and I was rejuvenated over and over. Truly, what a beautiful day!

Did I Mention...

that it is hellishly hot and miserable here! I am so irritable and cranky and sick of the heat that I can't even find words.
The second week of school went off OK. I guess. My daughter (her third week) ended up coming home sick today. She was running a low grade temp this morning, tried to convince her to stay home, but no...so she called me at lunch and was ready to come home. She has been in bed...literally, since she got home. I have taken her water and checked on her, but mostly she has been laying in bed feeling miserable. That's what we get for living in the middle of the Almond capitol of the world! We have almond orchards surrounding our house, so the clouds of dust (it's harvest time) are crazy. So, she developed a bit of a sinus infection, I believe. Then, there's C who got dehydrated and was trying to get a UTI. Love the little cuties. They stress me to the moon, though.
I have been asked to teach a crochet class to the junior high students at our school. Which I readily agreed to, but, I didn't know I would have to speak at a rally in front of ALL of the middle schoolers. AAAAGH! The only thing I hate more than climbing really high poles and jumping off, is talking in front of pretty much any group bigger than 10 to 15 people (preferrably sitting at a table with coffee or an adult beverage). It pretty much bit the big one. But, I survived and I know at least one person will sign up for my class (thank you, Hannah).
At the moment I am sweltering and wishing for spring or fall or any weather than doesn't involve triple digit temperatures. I took the kids to La Comida for dinner, gotta love any place you can feed 3 teenagers, a 7 year old and an adult for $25. We have made it a weekly institution, I just don't always feel like cooking, go figure, it's only like 185 million degrees outside, with like an absurd amount of humidity going on, and we have a swamp cooler, so...I'm whining. Did I mention that I'm irritable and cranky too? To add insult to injury, I will be 36 soon, ugh. On that note...did I mention that I'm irritable and cranky?

Random

I took my boys up to the ropes course that I accomplished. I was hoping to impress them with the bravery I exhibited. My 10 year old was completely unimpressed. He thought it would be fun and that it wasn't that high. Humph. My 7 year old was just ready to leave because there were "too many sticks", and the 13 year old just had to go to the bathroom. That is my life.
I am totally excited about showing the kids something, and my daughter totally blows me off, she needed to wash her hair or something, and the boys just don't follow through with my dreamy expectations. Such is life. They were much more impressed with the Oreo McFlurrys and the stop at a park. All in all, I did have a nice day with my boys.
I went on a date with my two other boys, I know scandalous, to the races. I love to spend time with them, especially now when they aren't completely embarrassed to be seen with me. They really take care of me.
My daughter wants to take me to A Taste of Chico for my birthday. I think it's sweet, but I am wondering what friends are going to be tagging along. I suggested the Chico State Rock Climbing wall. I think I'm addicted to that darn harness thing from the ropes course.
Actually, I am so amazed at what I was able to push myself to do, even now two and a half weeks later. I can't say I enjoyed the fear. Our music teacher at school says, "Which one is my left?" just about every time he sees me. I must explain...when I was climbing on the dinner plate on top of a telephone pole, the instructor guy told me to lift my left foot. I was so incredibly freaked out that I couldn't remember my left from my right. So I yelled out, "Which one is my left?" I know, I kind of made myself sound brave in my last post, that must have been the adrenaline...really I was terrified and couldn't remember which was my right or left. I also said bad words a few times, shh.
I must say that not only do I feel stronger from this experience, but I feel closer to my fellow coworkers who attempted the stunts and cheered us on. I think I'm going to have to stop talking about it though.
Well, the boys have homework and I must resume my mommy duties.

I am amazing!

I can't believe, still, that I did it!
Today, I attended a ropes course with my co workers. I work for a school, and our principal signed us up for a ropes course for team building. I was way less than thrilled at the prospect of climbing ladders and falling and all that stuff. I went with much trepidation.
I DID IT!!!!! Me, the person who has to constantly overcome fear. The one that always worries more than anyone else about the impossible possibilities. I climbed a tree with another person, stood on a cable leaning forward with my hands on his shoulders and his hands on mine, and we took a step. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever done in my life. I did it though. Then we were billeted down.
The second "station" was we had to climb a pole and stand on a dinner plate sized disc at the top of the pole. I had to turn around, then JUMP off reaching for a trapeze. I DID IT!!!! It was more frightening than anything I could imagine, (up until today and the group jump thing we did).
I truly conquered my fears. I didn't wimp out and not do it, because I was afraid. I cowboyed up, so to speak, and I did it! I still can't believe that I stood on top of a telephone pole with nothing underneath me, my life in my four co workers hands as they billeted me down. I can't even put into words the feelings that are still here, two and a half hours later. I think I need to see the pictures to believe that I really did it. It just feels so surreal. I was able to overcome fear. I won. The fear did not win. I did!
I am AMAZING!