Friday, October 30, 2009

A, double U, K, double U, A, R, D.

All my life I've been the victim of the awkward situation. It can be anything, and I've even joked that I may change my name to Murphy because I fit his law to a T.

When I was younger (and skinnier) I often had the problem of boys thinking I liked them when I didn't. I am a quiet girl, and I try very hard not to be rude (no comments from some of you), and so I suppose that in my laid-back, easy-going way I must have given these boys the impression that I not only CARED what they had to say, but I also ENJOYED their presence. Most of them were wrong :) Then I was stuck in that weird place of wanting to be nice to them, but not "liking them like that," and eventually having to say so.

In middle school my "not on the list" curse began. It never failed, there was at least one class per year in which the teacher would say, "Is anyone in the room who was NOT on my list?" At which point I would slowly raise my hand. Inevitably she wouldn't see my hand, and would begin moving on, when someone bolder than I would shout, "Andrea! You didn't call Andrea's name!"

"Why didn't you say something?" the teacher would question. I'd shrug, embarrassed. The whole time I was thinking, "I raised my hand, stupid. Isn't that what you teach us? Raise your hand don't shout out? UGH!"

The curse continued all the way to college. I, most likely the least-outspoken person in the class, was always put in a situation where I had to speak out. I wasn't on the list. I was called on when I was daydreaming. I was in the wrong class, wrong room, wrong building.

Even in adulthood I am constantly a victim of "...and did we leave anyone out?" at beginning of the year introductions. A co-worker will push me forward or shout my name. WHY am I NEVER on the list???

That's only where it begins. I can't count the number of times I've noticed someone's one crazy gray hair shooting out of their head, or a blackhead on their lip (I know, I know), or their un-zipped pants. I try to look away the instant I notice, but before I can avert my eyes, they ALWAYS notice me looking.

I'm also not a huge fan of eye-contact, so when I'm trying to find a spot upon which to fix my gaze, they always ALWAYS think they have a booger. I can see the thought go right through their minds! I KNOW they go to the bathroom after our conversations to check! I want to say sometimes, "You don't have a booger. I just don't look people in the eye."

Is it just me who falls victim to the ongoing awkward situation? Do you all face them daily as I do, or is it just stamped in my genes somewhere? Maybe I attract awkwardness. I've always labeled myself as awkward. Maybe it's not the situation...maybe it's....ME?

Monday, October 19, 2009


I have several "sparks" this morning in my mind, but nothing that is worthy of its own blog. Therefore, I am just going to shoot off my random thoughts and call it a cobblage (that's co-blah-zsh like collage with blog :) )

First of all, have you SEEN Faith Hill lately? She has always been one of my favorites. Her look, her voice, her personality. I just love her. When I saw her on a football commercial, though, I didn't even recognize her! I am almost certain she's had 'work' done, and to me that just makes women look WORSE. She's a beautiful woman, and it's sad to me that she feels the need to maintain the image of a twenty year old. Our society is so whacked!

On a younger note, I took Chlo and Mom to the pumpkin patch Saturday. We had such a nice time, and I got a pumkin and a half for two fifty! I also got some great pictures. We then ventured over to Cameron's birthday party. Social gatherings are not really my thing, so I was kind of dreading it, but it turned out to be a great time. Chloe had a blast, and I enjoyed catching up with Jodi and her family. Chloe told Jodi it was the BEST birthday party EVER! She had so much fun, and now all she talks about is Cameron :)

On my weight watching note, I'm doing ok. My basic method is not to weigh myself, but to gauge by my jeans and pants how I'm doing. I'm doing well I think. This morning I fought the urge to buy a doughnut from my 8th grade fund raiser. Instead I am currently having a Diet Coke and a (gasp) Nutty Bar. I know. But I didn't have breakfast, so I'm counting the peanut butter as my protien, and splitting the calories between breakfast and a mid-morning snack. See, it's almost like I'm eating well :)

It's a short week at school due to parent teacher conferences, which means some long nights in return. I'd rather work late and be off Friday, though, and there are rumors of Pizza.

That's the up-to-the-minute on The Real World. Have a fabulous Monday. It's going to be beautiful.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009


Those "seeds" combined with a low temperature got Chloe kicked out of school for a day or two. Apparently you can't have poop seeds and stay at school ;) So we're home and hoping to go back to school Friday. I no more than published that post when I got the call. Ah Universe. You crack me up.


Disclaimer: This blog is hilarious, may cause you to laugh out loud. This post does discuss toilet issues and may NOT be considered funny if you're eating lunch.

Yesterday evening Chloe informed me she needed to use the bathroom. She's self-sufficient in there, and only needs my help if she goes #2. She had already done that, so I figured I was in the clear.

After a few minutes, she yelled, "Mom! I need you!"

"What, Chloe?"

"I tooted and I made poop-seeds!"

"You what?!" I yelled from the livingroom.

"I HAVE POOP SEEDS!" she exclaimed, as if I should know what those are.

I went back to the bathroom to investigate, and when I pulled her forward on the toilet I saw it. There, floating in the bowl, was a small group of corn kernels. They weren't "connected," just, floating. I laughed.

"Those aren't 'poop seeds,'" I explained, "It's corn! Did you have corn at school today or yesterday?" She erupted with laughter.

"Yeah, I did," she giggled. She flushed the toilet, and went back to playing.

Bedtime came, and I sent her to potty before she went to bed. Pretty soon she yelled for me again.

"Did you poop AGAIN?!?!" I yelled from the living room. There was a pause, and then her reply.


I still laugh every time I think about it.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

My Own Miracle

I subscribe to a weekly inspirational e-mail, a.k.a. "Knee-Mail" from a special lady. This week she discussed miracles, big and small, and shared her own with her readers.

Her Knee-Mail reminded me of a time many years ago when I had one of those small, yet powerful experiences that could only be described as miraculous.

As you may have noticed by now, I am terrified of storms. I have overcome my fear a little since becoming a mom. After all, once you've squeezed a human from your body and nourished it yourself, been poked, stuck, cut, and sewn in every imaginable way, it's tough to be scared of something as simple as weather, although I still have my moments.

Many years ago when I was a teenager, I remember a terrible storm crashing outside my bedroom window. It was the middle of the night, and I was scared to death.

"Please don't let there be a tornado. Or strong winds. Or lightning," I prayed. Someday I'll tell you about my need to be extremely specific when I pray.

I remembered my preacher saying that God cared about everything we had to say, and that he could even move mountains if we believed it. I figured if He could move mountains, he could surely calm a storm.

"Please, God, calm the storm. I'm scared and I want to sleep." I prayed aloud. Within seconds the wind died down. The lightning ceased. A quiet rain fell on my window. While my heart pounded at the magnitude of what had just happened, I had a still, quiet peace inside. That was proof enough of God for me.

The real miracle, however, happened a few years later.

Again I found myself in my bed during a terrible storm. I the thunder woke me, and at this point I was in my late teens or early twenties, and was not about to jump in Mama's bed. I remembered that night when the storm was quieted for me, and I prayed for relief.

Minutes passed, and the storm raged on, worse than ever. Frustrated that my prayer was not being answered, I turned up my radio to drown it out. It was tuned to KCVO, and I heard a song from years and years ago. I thought it was odd they were playing such an old song, but when the chorus came on, I knew I'd experienced a miracle once again.

"Sometimes He calms the storm
With a whispered peace be still.
He can settle any sea,
But it doesn't mean He will.
Sometimes He holds us close,
And lets the wind and waves go wild.
Sometimes He calms the storm,
And other times He calms His child."

I realized then that I could attain peace without the storm stopping, and I did. My eyes grew heavy, my pulse slowed down, and I went to sleep.

I do the same thing with my daughter. I can't always control what happens around her, but I can give her peace and comfort. That's what God wants to do with me, and I don't always sit still and let Him.

These days, in the storms of my life, I find myself praying for the storms to cease. Thinking back on these small miracles in my life, I have realized maybe what He wants is for me to find peace from Him.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Statue: An Original Poem by moi

In the middle of town
Stood a statue of stone,
But the citizens there
Wouldn't leave it alone.

It once portrayed beauty;
In peace it once stood,
Until one passerby
Said, "It's not so good."

She picked at its detail,
Then she took out her file.
She rubbed and she scratched it;
She destroyed with a smile.

For a while people thought
That the woman was mad.
They thought she was crazy,
And her marring was bad.

But she convinced a friend
He should come help her out.
They kept on destroying;
They planted seeds of doubt.

Just one piece at a time
They kept whittling away.
They watched as dust piles formed
And its lines became gray.

The good people in town
Were outraged and upset.
They tried to protect it;
It wasn't destroyed yet.

Then slowly but surely
Its protectors turned mean,
Took sides with destroyers;
It's like nothing you've seen.

More and more began to turn,
Began to use their files.
Just a few protectors
Couldn't stop acts so vile.

Day by day the dust pile
Grew more upon the ground.
The statue's points were dull;
The corners now were round.

Slowly now they watched it
As dust it soon became.
To some destruction hurt,
To most it was a game.

Now all that remains
Is a lonely withered rock.
It's nothing like it was;
It's something that they mock.

Its beauty is no more,
Image is diminished.
The things it once stood for
Now, at last, are finished.

That Kind of Love

I had kind of a rough evening yesterday. I was restless going to sleep, and just couldn't put my mind at ease. To top it off, there was rain and some storming.

I hadn't been sleeping long when I woke to run to the bathroom. It was raining hard, and I figured the storms were imminent. I knew the pitter-patter of little feet would be in my future, so I decided I'd beat her to the punch.

I was already awake anyway, so I figured it would me much easier to get her up, take her potty, and get her situated in my bed now than it would be in an hour or so when I was dead asleep.

I crept into her room and whispered, "Chloe? Do you want to come in Mommy's bed?" She didn't open her eyes, but she whispered back, "Yes." I hoisted her over my shoulder and made her potty before we settled in. She has a notorious habit of peeing in MY bed and my bed only.

She was so sleepy she couldn't sit up. I put her on the toilet and squatted in front of her, letting her rest her head and body on my shoulder. Her arms were around my neck.

She did what she had to do, and I said, "Ok let's get your jammies up and go in my room." She squeezed her arms tighter around me, turned her head toward mine and whispered, "You're so nice, Mama. I love you."

I was her hero for letting her come to bed with me without her even asking. That made me "nice" in her eyes. All she wants is to be close to me, to have my attention, and to please me.

They say the love we have for our children is unimagninable, but I often wonder if she doesn't love me even more than I love her. She doesn't lose her patience with me. She doesn't mind if my elbow is in her back, as long as we're next to each other. She tells me I am skinny and beautiful. She thinks I'm funny even when I'm just being stupid.

She'll grow out of those unconditional love characteristics I know, but right now I cherish every moment that I feel THAT kind of love. No one else could ever love me the way she does. If only the world could see me through her eyes.

Monday, October 5, 2009


Today was the big day. It may have been more triumphant if I wasn't bogged down with what I've dubbed "piggie flu." No, I do not have Swine flu or any other flu variation. I just feel like crap and that's my over-exaggerative way to say it.

Today is Chloe's first day of pre-school. I still can't stop thinking about the fact that she's merely a few yards away from me at this very moment.

We talked about pre-school all weekend. She asked questions, I answered. We made her cubby collage. We picked a blanket and pillow to leave there for nap time. We picked out clothes for this morning. We put batteries in the camera.

I was running late (as usual) so I just snapped a few of her before we went out the door. We drove to school together, and I walked her to her class.

Her teacher, Mrs. Amber, was at the door to greet us. She called Chloe by name and showed her the cubby. She put blanky in there until nap time! Not sure how well that will go, but Chloe was willing.

Her eyes were lit up with excitement. Mrs. Amber introduced Chloe to a classmate, Abby. Chloe piped up, "HI Abby!" She is SO excited, and I truly hope this turns out to be a fun and productive day for her.

I can't wait to pick her up and hear all about the first day of school.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Divine Intervention

Consider this an update to my "GIVE ME CARBOHYDRATES AND CHOCOLATE NOW" themed post earlier today. Today I received Divine intervention. It was not, however, the "intervention" I requested yesterday.

I made it to lunch time without devouring my own flesh today. On the menu today was BLT on wheat, mozzarella cheese stick, and applesauce. I stopped at the Coke machine on my way to lunch for my trusty (yet not as tasty as her "regular" brother) Diet Coke.

I put my dollar in, received my Coke, and clink. A quarter. After some frustration I decided it's only a quarter, I won't get too upset over it. I'm HUNGRY!

I went through the line and was eating my lunch when I saw it. The junior class. Several members were scurrying about. They were selling...CANDY! Candy at lunch! Chocolate! Caramel! SKITTLES even! Oh sweet mother of Mary! I dug in my pocket for my fifty cents...

I pulled out my quarter.

Only God could have saved me from that candy bar...and that's just what he did. God and his "hilarious" antics. I licked my wounds by stealing a mini candy from Barb's basket. I guess everyone wins.

Stress Diet 101

Ok. So I'm not on a weight-loss plan or program. I don't REALLY even have a goal. I'm not actively TRYING to lose weight. I have noticed, however, that since my emotional life leveled off, I have found myself comfortable, content, even happy. You know what this means right? Fat.

I'm not obese by any means. I'm skinnier now than I was pre-baby. However, I became somewhat accustomed to the stress diet, and I'm struggling with this fat and happy thing. I was on the SD for so long, I lost most of my ability to reason and limit my food choices and intake.

Let me explain my stress diet to you.

Phase 1:
Stress begins. Knots in stomach lead to loss of appetite. Moderate eating to fasting occur. Weight loss begins. Jeans fit well.
After initial stress period (5-7 days), you will experience stomach shrinkage and appetite changes. Should last 1-2 weeks depending on stress level.

Phase 2:
Stress levels have spiked immediately following initial stress period (5-7 days) OR Phase 1 has lasted more than two weeks without ceasing. Moderate eating occurs with spurts of "bad food" binging. High stress levels burn calories taken in. Weight loss is noticeable. Jeans are loose.

Phase 3:
Stress levels have remained in effect for more than 3 weeks without ceasing with sporadic spikes. Appetite returns on SPIKE days, when body feels ready to buckle. Bad food binges are common, and you can eat what you want when you want. Periods of stomach knots/fasting and high stress (burning calories) cause more noticeable weight loss. New Buckle jeans in a size 7 are necessary, and they're not even that tight.

Phase 4: A period of maintained skinniness so long as mild stress is in place. Participants may volley between stages 3 and 4 until death or exit the program upon lack of stress, whichever occurs first.

I'm off the stress diet. Obviously this is an attempt at satire to some degree, and I in no way, shape or form endorse this "diet," nor do I think it was a healthy time. It's merely a comical look at the way stress affects my body.

I'm no longer stressed. I like food. Nothing stops me from eating it. Needless to say I can NOT put those dark denim Buckle jeans on, which is a good waste of 90 bucks.

I want to drop a few pounds by watching what I eat and drink, and I want to maintain a healthy weight (that still allows me to wear those ddBjs if I am in the mood for tight fittin' jeans that don't look small).

I have done really well this week. I have switched to strictly Diet Coke at work. I still haven't given up my sweet tea in the evenings, but I eat a good dinner and only a small sampling of breakfast or lunch.

Today, however, I am fighting the urge to go to Bullseye, get a doughnut, a Rice Krispie Treat, a fountain Pepsi, and a bag of Combos. And a Milky Way.

Someone is cooking down the hall. I have been looking through the pie and coookie sales fundraiser. I see food. I smell food. I WANT FOOD.

Man CAN live on bread alone and I'd give anything to have a loaf right now!

For now, though, I will blog. I will distract myself until I no longer have the option of leaving work. I will not succumb to my desire for carbs. Will power. It's not as strong or as effective as stress, but I'm exercising it right now.

Oh! Does exercising will power count as exercise????

Thursday, October 1, 2009

I Need an Intervention!

My computer has been on the fritz lately, so unless I take the work-top home, I don't have a home computer. I was thinking last night that I need to edit pictures from vacation and work on my current pictures.

Then it hit me.

I have no current pictures.

I've been mourning the end of my vacation subliminally since we passed through Arkansas late that Saturday evening. The last picture on my camera is the sunset back when it used to keep us company until about 8:30 in the evening.

Almost two months have passed since I took a picture of any sort. I see photographic moments almost daily, and I have not captured these.

I attribute it to my put-it-off/forget-it tendency. At the most awkward times (in the shower, drying my hair, at 2am, driving to work) I think of things like, "Oh I need to put my camera in my bag so I always have it!" or "I haven't charged my MP3 player." I rarely follow through on my "ah ha" moments, though, and thus find myself picture-less.

The same goes for my writing. My grading. Making phone calls.

Things I am Thinking About NOW That I Haven't Done and Probably Won't Until the Last Minute:

Editing vacation pics
Printing vacation pics
Scrapping vacation pics
Printing "regular" pics
Working on scrapbook
Buying supplies for Christmas surprises
Making Mom an Eagles CD
Putting away garage sale stuff (FROM JUNE)
Fixing toilet handle in spare bath

I could go on, but I won't.

I need an intervention.