I decided to craft a cake in the likeness of a Van Gogh painting...from Starburst, Gummi Bears and Nilla Wafers.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Because my middle name is Martha
I decided to craft a cake in the likeness of a Van Gogh painting...from Starburst, Gummi Bears and Nilla Wafers.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
I still don't have a job for the fall, but at least the hole is gone in my backyard and my porch is coming along.
Dressed in a summer blazer, crisp dress shirt and appropriate skirt, I entered the conference room where the interview was to be conducted. I graciously smiled and greeted five adults with handshakes – only one gave me a half-assed shake. I hate those – the grasp with just the fingers – instead of a whole-hearted, palm-to-palm, strong handshake. Most were dressed extremely casually. Although I must give him credit, the superintendent had on a button-down shirt.
The questions were standard and benign. I was able to handle them fairly easily. What surprised me, however, was the laughter. They found my responses hilarious. At first there were giggles or twitters, but then the laughing began. After about twenty minutes, it started to upset my rhythm. I know I can be funny, but I usually don’t get laughs talking about college letters of recommendation.
I think this is when I began to lose control. I knew for sure when I the principal interrupted me, “Does this work for you at the elementary level? The way you talk?”
What?
“You mean my sarcasm?”
“Yes.”
“Well…” and this is where the stammering began. It felt like it lasted for hours, but I think it only went for about a minute. I blathered on about how I was “pretty good” with elementary kids and that I must be okay – I had two interviews to get my current position, including teaching a “sample” lesson in front of real second graders after all. It was pretty ugly. The principal just stared at me. The rest of them stopped laughing.
I pulled myself together and everything went on fairly well until I made a statement about counselors standing around drinking coffee. It’s not worth explaining, but let’s just say there was a lot of laughter, blushing (me) and tons of embarrassment (also me). Jokes about coffee usually don’t sit well in a professional interview that could be potentially full of Mormons. I vaguely remember dropping my head at one point, and then slowly raising it in the direction of a soothing voice. One of the interviewers was very motherly and politely re-directed me back to what I was originally saying as I was answering the last question they asked.
I left feeling a mixture of emotions, but mainly feeling that I had blown it. As I buckled up to leave, I noticed a voicemail message on my phone. Thinking it was my husband calling to see how the interview went, I quickly listened to it. Unfortunately, it was the principal from my son’s school. Of course she had bad news. The drive to his school seemed to take forever. I was literally shaking the whole way.
I laid awake, most of that night, recalling in minute detail the events of the day. I questioned everything in my life that I could. And then I questioned some more.
The next morning, as I spoke with the principal I interviewed with, she went to great length to tell me how wonderful I was, BUT that she couldn’t offer me the job. Another counselor at her school, with different duties, had interviewed for the position and they needed to let her have the job. HOWEVER, would I be interested in her position? My emotions were now out of the pit of my stomach, but like a roller coaster, things can change quickly.
“Ok then, Carol, just apply for the now-open position and we’ll get you scheduled for another interview when the job announcement closes in two weeks.”
So, here I sit. The job closes tomorrow. I’m feeling pretty confident about the next interview. They seem to like me – religious slip-ups and all. The reason the principal asked about my use of sarcasm was not to be critical. She just felt I would do better with high schoolers and was surprised I was surviving in an elementary setting.
The questions were standard and benign. I was able to handle them fairly easily. What surprised me, however, was the laughter. They found my responses hilarious. At first there were giggles or twitters, but then the laughing began. After about twenty minutes, it started to upset my rhythm. I know I can be funny, but I usually don’t get laughs talking about college letters of recommendation.
I think this is when I began to lose control. I knew for sure when I the principal interrupted me, “Does this work for you at the elementary level? The way you talk?”
What?
“You mean my sarcasm?”
“Yes.”
“Well…” and this is where the stammering began. It felt like it lasted for hours, but I think it only went for about a minute. I blathered on about how I was “pretty good” with elementary kids and that I must be okay – I had two interviews to get my current position, including teaching a “sample” lesson in front of real second graders after all. It was pretty ugly. The principal just stared at me. The rest of them stopped laughing.
I pulled myself together and everything went on fairly well until I made a statement about counselors standing around drinking coffee. It’s not worth explaining, but let’s just say there was a lot of laughter, blushing (me) and tons of embarrassment (also me). Jokes about coffee usually don’t sit well in a professional interview that could be potentially full of Mormons. I vaguely remember dropping my head at one point, and then slowly raising it in the direction of a soothing voice. One of the interviewers was very motherly and politely re-directed me back to what I was originally saying as I was answering the last question they asked.
I left feeling a mixture of emotions, but mainly feeling that I had blown it. As I buckled up to leave, I noticed a voicemail message on my phone. Thinking it was my husband calling to see how the interview went, I quickly listened to it. Unfortunately, it was the principal from my son’s school. Of course she had bad news. The drive to his school seemed to take forever. I was literally shaking the whole way.
I laid awake, most of that night, recalling in minute detail the events of the day. I questioned everything in my life that I could. And then I questioned some more.
The next morning, as I spoke with the principal I interviewed with, she went to great length to tell me how wonderful I was, BUT that she couldn’t offer me the job. Another counselor at her school, with different duties, had interviewed for the position and they needed to let her have the job. HOWEVER, would I be interested in her position? My emotions were now out of the pit of my stomach, but like a roller coaster, things can change quickly.
“Ok then, Carol, just apply for the now-open position and we’ll get you scheduled for another interview when the job announcement closes in two weeks.”
So, here I sit. The job closes tomorrow. I’m feeling pretty confident about the next interview. They seem to like me – religious slip-ups and all. The reason the principal asked about my use of sarcasm was not to be critical. She just felt I would do better with high schoolers and was surprised I was surviving in an elementary setting.
The morals of the story. Don’t assume. Life happens. You never are in control.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
My oldest is seven
The last seven years have definitely been the most difficult, yet fulfilling of my life. Harry, as I have often written about, is a challenging child to parent. He has pushed my patience to levels I never knew I could attain. His needs have been so constant and demanding, at times, that my marriage has been strained to its limits. His behaviors have produced feelings in me that I had never experienced before knowing him. Positive and negative.
Harrison is smart. Really smart. He is also funny, creative, artistic, focused, and shy. His shyness can overwhelm him at times, but when he’s relaxed and comfortable he’ll talk and talk.
Harry keeps his feelings close to his vest. I feel privileged each and every time I get a true glimpse into his heart. Many times, I have to determine his emotions through his nonverbal expressions. His smile, of course, is my favorite expression. When he smiles it covers his entire face!
This past month has brought extraordinary challenges to my life as Harry’s mom, but as I sit and reflect on the positive things that he has given to me, I am reminded of how much it is an honor to parent him.
Harrison is smart. Really smart. He is also funny, creative, artistic, focused, and shy. His shyness can overwhelm him at times, but when he’s relaxed and comfortable he’ll talk and talk.
Harry keeps his feelings close to his vest. I feel privileged each and every time I get a true glimpse into his heart. Many times, I have to determine his emotions through his nonverbal expressions. His smile, of course, is my favorite expression. When he smiles it covers his entire face!
This past month has brought extraordinary challenges to my life as Harry’s mom, but as I sit and reflect on the positive things that he has given to me, I am reminded of how much it is an honor to parent him.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
I appear to be having such a great time at my soccer game, but....
I'm not sure soccer is my game.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
That's my boy
Harrison has been behaving unusually poor at school. His main offense – not listening. We talk often about better behavior, but he truly can’t seem to control himself.
A few days ago, as I was tucking him in, I asked him a desperate question. Nothing in this question came from my years of education and experience working with children.
I asked him from the depths of my frustrated soul: “Harry, you’ve had a rough three days…can you please change your attitude?” To this, he simply answered, “Yes I can.”
Great. That will really help.
A few days ago, as I was tucking him in, I asked him a desperate question. Nothing in this question came from my years of education and experience working with children.
I asked him from the depths of my frustrated soul: “Harry, you’ve had a rough three days…can you please change your attitude?” To this, he simply answered, “Yes I can.”
Great. That will really help.
Monday, May 14, 2007
It doesn't get much better than this.
I am so excited. Not because it was my birthday Saturday and Heather hosted a fantastic fajita feast for me and friends. Not because a great friend flew in all the way from Michigan to help me celebrate for the weekend. Not because I received four homemade cards for Mother's Day and my birthday this weekend from my children. Not because I ate german chocolate cake for the first time in over two years. Not because our family has yet another new boy in the family. No...it's because a cement truck arrived FINALLY and I now have poured footings in my front and back yards.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
I'm an aunt!
This beautiful little boy was born yesterday - on my birthday! I feel like we'll always have this great, extra little connection.
Welcome to the family, C.J.!
Friday, May 11, 2007
Photo Friday
These flowering trees were all over the place when I was down visiting my dad in Florida a few weeks ago.
(Okay - the flowers are more yellow, than amber, but this is the closest picture I could find to fit the theme.)
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Mayble I'll have less time to fret if I get a full time job
I think I have regressed. The closer I get to age 43 – the more like a young, college girl I feel.
I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I sit and wait for an interview for a position as a full time counselor, but deep down I’d rather write for an interior design blog, sell houses or take pictures professionally. As much as I know intellectually that these other careers are possible, I know that staying home for the summer is the best option for my kids. Oh, and having a secure salary is good, too. I dream of starting over with a world of possibility and opportunity at my fingertips, but shrivel up from the insecurity that is wrapped up in all of these other options. I can remember when I left college with dreams of a career in advertising. The nervousness I’d feel during interviews due to my lack of experience was immense. It swelled over me almost to the point that my body wouldn’t function properly. I think that’s what keeps me from starting a new career again. Interviews are a walk in the park for me now. In the last 15 years, there really hasn’t been any situation or task out there, in school counseling, that I haven’t tackled. I may not be satisfied with my work, but I do know how to work with kids and families.
Another area in my life that has made me feel “young” again is with my ability to be a friend. My happiness used to revolve around my social life. I was on the phone, or with other people, ALL the time. I never considered choosing to spend time by myself. If it happened, it was because other people were busy. As I progressed through life, men became my social life. I have had several long term relationships and soon learned that it was hard to keep strong female friendships when I kept moving away. After my divorce, I found a group of thirty-somethings at work. We did a lot together, but it was effortless. We had so much in common and our accessibility to each other was easy. Because we were all a bit older, the friendships were strong, but not nearly as intimate as when I was in college or high school. A few years in, I met Chris. Once again, I moved. Five hours away. I moved to a town that I didn’t like and it permeated through my being. Let’s just say that no one would label me as “perky” or “effervescent” during the Green Bay years. Throw in a colicky first baby, an old house in disrepair and a marriage that was given too many stressors in its infancy – and you have an unhappy person. Not exactly the type that attracted or fostered lasting friendships.
As I have adjusted to living in Salt Lake, the walls have slowly come down. I have become more open and willing to develop long lasting relationships. I quickly became friends with several of the neighborhood moms and thoroughly enjoyed my colleagues at work. Unfortunately – and I can’t decide when it began – I now feel like it’s a struggle again.
Maybe it’s because I work part time, that I have such a hard time talking to other moms about our respective children’s accomplishments, skills and/or activities. I quickly assess what they are doing and assume it’s better and more wonderful than anything I’m doing. Then I try to figure out how to duplicate what they are doing and realize that that would be dumb. Sometimes this process occurs quickly, most often it doesn’t.
I am also doing this “comparison” thing more and more with my athletic endeavors. I have trained for a marathon and a half marathon in my lifetime. I made huge strides, and kept a tremendous effort up, but ran neither event. I work out 4-5 days a week, but still don’t feel I’m doing enough. I can’t consider swimming laps at my club’s pool because “everyone” that does that is enrolled in the Master swimming program. And I don’t really want to do that. In my spinning class, I’ve been having a hard time keeping up lately. My heart rate will soar, and then during our “backing off” periods, it won’t come right back down. I’ll be in pain – true pain – and won’t allow myself to slow down because maybe the guy next to me will notice. It’s crazy, I know. I finally talked to one of the instructors (a competitive bike racer and triathlete) about my symptoms and she told me that I’m over training and I need to keep my heart rate lower for the next two weeks. So this morning, I rode the elliptical machine at a slower pace and actually wondered if the chick at the front desk was laughing under her breath at the old broad “trying” to work out. Writing it all down like this makes me see how crazy it is, but it’s my rational world at those moments!
This athletic stuff leads right into my age-old body image issues. However, lately they seem magnified. Because I’ve lost lots of weight in front of some of my neighbors and friends, I start to wonder what they must think of me now that I’ve gained it back.
Again – college crap. Only then it was all about the guys. Who will want to go out with me since I’m so fat? Now it’s – “Who will want to hang out with the chubby mom?” It’s not that I think of my weight as something that puts people off – it’s different here in the land of mountains, hiking and REI. It’s more about activity level. If I don’t look fit, then I must be a couch potato. That’s about as bad as it gets around here.
Most of these issues are repeats of things I’ve felt my whole life – only in a different form. The difference I’m feeling these days is that intellectually I know better. I know that a woman with a Masters degree, two beautiful children, and an accomplished career that revolves around helping people should be proud of these things. I am, but I don’t think about those things when I’m worrying about Harry. When I’m worrying that his misbehavior castes a negative light on my parenting skills. I’m not thinking about those things when the new shorts I’m wearing look hideous when I catch a glance of myself in the mirror at the store today. I’m not thinking of those things when I walk across the room at spinning class and wonder if people are looking at my large you-know-what in those stupid tight lycra bike shorts.
I just want to grow up. I want to have security. My mom used to harp on me about this stuff. She’d yell at me, “Just like yourself!” I think she was an amazing friend and parent to me, but in those moments I wouldn’t say she was at her best.
As I look at Ella, I daily worry that she will lose her self esteem some day. I desperately demand that she be assertive all the time. She doesn’t like to make her own decisions. I tell her she has to. When anyone comments on her beautiful eyes – I tell her how smart she is. I do not want her to be writing things like this four days before she turns 43.
I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I sit and wait for an interview for a position as a full time counselor, but deep down I’d rather write for an interior design blog, sell houses or take pictures professionally. As much as I know intellectually that these other careers are possible, I know that staying home for the summer is the best option for my kids. Oh, and having a secure salary is good, too. I dream of starting over with a world of possibility and opportunity at my fingertips, but shrivel up from the insecurity that is wrapped up in all of these other options. I can remember when I left college with dreams of a career in advertising. The nervousness I’d feel during interviews due to my lack of experience was immense. It swelled over me almost to the point that my body wouldn’t function properly. I think that’s what keeps me from starting a new career again. Interviews are a walk in the park for me now. In the last 15 years, there really hasn’t been any situation or task out there, in school counseling, that I haven’t tackled. I may not be satisfied with my work, but I do know how to work with kids and families.
Another area in my life that has made me feel “young” again is with my ability to be a friend. My happiness used to revolve around my social life. I was on the phone, or with other people, ALL the time. I never considered choosing to spend time by myself. If it happened, it was because other people were busy. As I progressed through life, men became my social life. I have had several long term relationships and soon learned that it was hard to keep strong female friendships when I kept moving away. After my divorce, I found a group of thirty-somethings at work. We did a lot together, but it was effortless. We had so much in common and our accessibility to each other was easy. Because we were all a bit older, the friendships were strong, but not nearly as intimate as when I was in college or high school. A few years in, I met Chris. Once again, I moved. Five hours away. I moved to a town that I didn’t like and it permeated through my being. Let’s just say that no one would label me as “perky” or “effervescent” during the Green Bay years. Throw in a colicky first baby, an old house in disrepair and a marriage that was given too many stressors in its infancy – and you have an unhappy person. Not exactly the type that attracted or fostered lasting friendships.
As I have adjusted to living in Salt Lake, the walls have slowly come down. I have become more open and willing to develop long lasting relationships. I quickly became friends with several of the neighborhood moms and thoroughly enjoyed my colleagues at work. Unfortunately – and I can’t decide when it began – I now feel like it’s a struggle again.
Maybe it’s because I work part time, that I have such a hard time talking to other moms about our respective children’s accomplishments, skills and/or activities. I quickly assess what they are doing and assume it’s better and more wonderful than anything I’m doing. Then I try to figure out how to duplicate what they are doing and realize that that would be dumb. Sometimes this process occurs quickly, most often it doesn’t.
I am also doing this “comparison” thing more and more with my athletic endeavors. I have trained for a marathon and a half marathon in my lifetime. I made huge strides, and kept a tremendous effort up, but ran neither event. I work out 4-5 days a week, but still don’t feel I’m doing enough. I can’t consider swimming laps at my club’s pool because “everyone” that does that is enrolled in the Master swimming program. And I don’t really want to do that. In my spinning class, I’ve been having a hard time keeping up lately. My heart rate will soar, and then during our “backing off” periods, it won’t come right back down. I’ll be in pain – true pain – and won’t allow myself to slow down because maybe the guy next to me will notice. It’s crazy, I know. I finally talked to one of the instructors (a competitive bike racer and triathlete) about my symptoms and she told me that I’m over training and I need to keep my heart rate lower for the next two weeks. So this morning, I rode the elliptical machine at a slower pace and actually wondered if the chick at the front desk was laughing under her breath at the old broad “trying” to work out. Writing it all down like this makes me see how crazy it is, but it’s my rational world at those moments!
This athletic stuff leads right into my age-old body image issues. However, lately they seem magnified. Because I’ve lost lots of weight in front of some of my neighbors and friends, I start to wonder what they must think of me now that I’ve gained it back.
Again – college crap. Only then it was all about the guys. Who will want to go out with me since I’m so fat? Now it’s – “Who will want to hang out with the chubby mom?” It’s not that I think of my weight as something that puts people off – it’s different here in the land of mountains, hiking and REI. It’s more about activity level. If I don’t look fit, then I must be a couch potato. That’s about as bad as it gets around here.
Most of these issues are repeats of things I’ve felt my whole life – only in a different form. The difference I’m feeling these days is that intellectually I know better. I know that a woman with a Masters degree, two beautiful children, and an accomplished career that revolves around helping people should be proud of these things. I am, but I don’t think about those things when I’m worrying about Harry. When I’m worrying that his misbehavior castes a negative light on my parenting skills. I’m not thinking about those things when the new shorts I’m wearing look hideous when I catch a glance of myself in the mirror at the store today. I’m not thinking of those things when I walk across the room at spinning class and wonder if people are looking at my large you-know-what in those stupid tight lycra bike shorts.
I just want to grow up. I want to have security. My mom used to harp on me about this stuff. She’d yell at me, “Just like yourself!” I think she was an amazing friend and parent to me, but in those moments I wouldn’t say she was at her best.
As I look at Ella, I daily worry that she will lose her self esteem some day. I desperately demand that she be assertive all the time. She doesn’t like to make her own decisions. I tell her she has to. When anyone comments on her beautiful eyes – I tell her how smart she is. I do not want her to be writing things like this four days before she turns 43.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Pants or Skirt?
I am supposed to have an interview this week. They have yet to call and schedule it. Do I dress up every day just in case?
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Too much
Lately I feel as if life has gone into overdrive. Let me list why:
1) The kids are in two activities for the first time - soccer and gymnastics. Soccer involves two games on Saturday and then two practices during the week. Gymnastics, thank god, is only once a week. They are in separate classes, but they are held at the same time.
2) Harrison has started a third activity that is twice a week for an hour and a half - also after school. I am being vague on purpose, but just know that we wouldn't put him in this if it wasn't a good thing.
3) The yard is under construction. This means many things. Mud is all over the kitchen floor. Trenches, as deep and wide as the Nile, are all over which tends to be a bit of a safety issue for two short children. The contractor, as mentioned, is my brother in law. We're trying to help him jumpstart his new contracting business. Unfortunately, I'm starting to realize why he may be having some issues with success.
4) I am still without a job for next year. There are two positions available in my new district - one full time, one part time. I am waiting to be called for an interview for the full time opening. I just learned that two other counselors are planning to apply. Being the new kid - I doubt I have a chance. That said, I'll be able to apply for the opening that they leave behind, or the half time position. Most of the time I feel confident that I'll get some position, but then there are other moments when I worry that I'll interview through June and be left with nothing.
5) I lost my cell phone yesterday. Retraced my steps (only had to go to one small park and one small market) but couldn't find it. Called it and ran around the house and went back into the car. Nothing. Couldn't see it nor hear it. I called and had it turned off which made for an extremely long day today (even though I always swore I didn't really need a cell phone). This afternoon - right before I left work to go volunteer at Ella's school - I decided to look under the seats in the car, etc. Wouldn't you know it? It was right on the passenger seat. Right there. Staring at me.
I'm feeling pretty exhausted - and it's only Wednesday.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
A Family Affair
I've been implying that we're overwhelmed and in over our heads with all the construction on our yard. Truly - the only one with a problem is me. I have to have faith, though. The contractor is Chris and his brother. They have this "do it right" gene. They want to do it the best way so that it will last.
I just can't see the vision yet. I'm sure I'll get there. The kids don't seem to mind. They're having a blast. (oh - and Harrison and Ella are having fun, too!)
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Exhibit B
This is the front yard. Just a little front porch - that's all I wanted. A small slab of concrete where I could enjoy a glass of wine after work. They promise me it will be gorgeous.
Monday, April 16, 2007
On the way to school this morning
Ella: I just love Spanish class.
Me: Well that’s good.
Ella: But not as much as I love you. I love you to heaven and back.
Me: I love you too, honey.
Ella: I love Spanish class just to a tree and back.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
I haven't stopped shaking my head
Before
After
We've lived in our house almost three years and this is the first remodeling project we have attempted because our house was pretty move-in ready. We also had remodeling-itus after working steadily on our circa 1895 house back in Green Bay for the four years prior.
Last week, Chris mentioned that we should start on our plans for a deck, before summer, so that we can enjoy it this year. That turned into - "Let's put on a front porch, too, while we're at it." Which became, "You know, the retaining wall is leaning and really should be replaced." And of course, "With a new wall and deck, we need a better fence." So a mini-backhoe and bobcat were delivered Friday afternoon to the delight of the little boys in the neighborhood. Yesterday we all put on our grubbies and played in the dirt. I just didn't realize that one of the outcomes of this project would be that we wouldn't have to mow this year.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
Rest
I went to Florida last week. Alone. To visit my dad. Alone. In case you didn't pick up on that - I DIDN'T TAKE MY FAMILY. Any of them.
My dad lives a pretty peaceful existence down there. Lots of reading, lollygagging and golf. He doesn't need too much more than that. When I got home and called to say "Happy Easter" and "I made it home just fine" - he thanked me for motivating him and getting him out of the house. I'm not sure what we did. I do remember one trip to Costco. And a visit with Jonna. (My dad loves her more than me. "She's so perky and vivacious!")
It was back to reality today, though. My kids are on Spring Break this week (mine was last week.) I went to work, they went to camp. A few days before I left for my trip, I was notified that my position (yes, the new one that I just took which has immeasurably improved our lives) was eliminated due to budget cuts. This must make some kind of record. I have held the job for exactly five months. I will stay through the school year, but don't know if I'll be able to slip into any other opening in the district. I spent the day trying to figure out who else may be interested in the available position. It was really fun.
The kids missed me, but Chris did an incredible job single parenting for a WHOLE WEEK. He didn't complain at all. I complain if he comes home after 6 PM. They both started soccer last week and are still in gymnastics. I vowed never to get this involved. Especially in sports - it's too...athletic.
Ella celebrated her birthday while I was gone. I called and sang to her. Harry had a musical performance at school - he was an echidna. I bought the fabric - Chris made the costume. He used shoelaces, from his boots.
Maybe I should go back to full time - I really think they'll all be fine.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Career paths and other stuff
I’m not really sure how people enter certain occupations. For example, some chick on NPR this morning devoted her entire doctoral research to studying the communication patterns between insects. This, of course, led her right into the communication patterns of elephants. You’d be amazed at the similarities between the two!
Another time I thought about this was a few weeks ago as I walked into my yearly OB/GYN appointment with a new doctor – a man. What went through his head when he made this career choice? Didn’t he realize how this choice would ruin the way he approached sex forever?
I tried a woman last year. One of my mother’s dying requests was that I immediately schedule a mammogram. I assured her I already regularly got them (due to high risk) but that I would get another one right away. I threw in a physical exam to boot. The female doctor I chose (due to her office location alone) was disappointing. She was fast, nonspecific and generally uninterested. I sat in her office, a grief-stricken wreck, begging her to give me ever cancer screener on the market. She basically told me that I was fine and to stop worrying. No blood work, no in-depth questioning about my lifestyle, no fancy tests. I left feeling unheard.
So the pressure was on with this new doctor. I wanted to go to our teaching University this time and they scheduled me with a male doctor. I went in open minded not wanting to believe that he couldn’t be extremely effective even if he didn’t possess his own set of ovaries.
He was pretty good at first. He took my concerns seriously and followed up with tests. One of which was an ultrasound.
As I laid on the table, my belly full of goo, the technician pushed down hard on my extremely full bladder.
“Ok – there is your bladder,” she began, “wow – it’s really full.”
“It’s supposed to be,” I responded. “They told me to drink 32 ounces an hour ago. I do what I’m told.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.
“Why do you ask? Because I’m a rule follower?” I defensively answered.
“No,” she laughed, “it’s just that you have what we call…a…well…a…beer bladder.”
I absolutely lost it – I laughed so hard. Then I asked a bunch of questions.
“Is it all stretched out? Is it too big? What?”
“No,” she calmed me down, “it’s just that I’ve had people complain pretty loudly with half the amount that’s in your bladder. You can REALLY hold a LOT.”
Why thank you.
The test results are inconclusive. I even had a biopsy, but thankfully it came back negative. I told my dad what was going on and he became pretty upset. His parents, and his wife, have died from cancer. I probably shouldn’t have unduly upset him. It’s just that I’m so used to telling my mom every detail of everything – I still try to do some of that with him.
The doctor failed in the end. I’m in complete limbo. He didn’t offer to search any farther for the cause of my symptoms, and he forgot to follow through on some other things. I feel like I’m back to square one. I hate the thought of being gender biased, but maybe I should go see a woman.
Another time I thought about this was a few weeks ago as I walked into my yearly OB/GYN appointment with a new doctor – a man. What went through his head when he made this career choice? Didn’t he realize how this choice would ruin the way he approached sex forever?
I tried a woman last year. One of my mother’s dying requests was that I immediately schedule a mammogram. I assured her I already regularly got them (due to high risk) but that I would get another one right away. I threw in a physical exam to boot. The female doctor I chose (due to her office location alone) was disappointing. She was fast, nonspecific and generally uninterested. I sat in her office, a grief-stricken wreck, begging her to give me ever cancer screener on the market. She basically told me that I was fine and to stop worrying. No blood work, no in-depth questioning about my lifestyle, no fancy tests. I left feeling unheard.
So the pressure was on with this new doctor. I wanted to go to our teaching University this time and they scheduled me with a male doctor. I went in open minded not wanting to believe that he couldn’t be extremely effective even if he didn’t possess his own set of ovaries.
He was pretty good at first. He took my concerns seriously and followed up with tests. One of which was an ultrasound.
As I laid on the table, my belly full of goo, the technician pushed down hard on my extremely full bladder.
“Ok – there is your bladder,” she began, “wow – it’s really full.”
“It’s supposed to be,” I responded. “They told me to drink 32 ounces an hour ago. I do what I’m told.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.
“Why do you ask? Because I’m a rule follower?” I defensively answered.
“No,” she laughed, “it’s just that you have what we call…a…well…a…beer bladder.”
I absolutely lost it – I laughed so hard. Then I asked a bunch of questions.
“Is it all stretched out? Is it too big? What?”
“No,” she calmed me down, “it’s just that I’ve had people complain pretty loudly with half the amount that’s in your bladder. You can REALLY hold a LOT.”
Why thank you.
The test results are inconclusive. I even had a biopsy, but thankfully it came back negative. I told my dad what was going on and he became pretty upset. His parents, and his wife, have died from cancer. I probably shouldn’t have unduly upset him. It’s just that I’m so used to telling my mom every detail of everything – I still try to do some of that with him.
The doctor failed in the end. I’m in complete limbo. He didn’t offer to search any farther for the cause of my symptoms, and he forgot to follow through on some other things. I feel like I’m back to square one. I hate the thought of being gender biased, but maybe I should go see a woman.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Birthday "swumming"
Ella is picking up the Utah accent faster than I can blink. It's driving me crazy. If she insists on having an accent, then I want it to be from the Midwest - I want her to say kaaahn-kreet (that stuff that sidewalks are made of) with strong confidence. I do NOT want her saying "Brigh-in" instead of "Brighton" or "moun-in" for "mountain." I especially hate "swum" instead of "swim." We've worked on it over and over. She cannot correct these misspeaks!
Today was Ella's birthday party at a local indoor pool. She is turning five on April 3rd. I will not be here. That makes two more things that will not make me mother-of-the-year. First, was forgetting the candles for her cake today. Second, will be flying to Florida to spend time with my dad over her birthday. I have Spring Break that week, and the kids don't, so I found a flight that keeps me there over her birthday. In my frugal madness to find the best deal, I didn't even notice the dates.
She is so laid back, and concerned about others, that she's already assured me that it will be okay. She's really excited that she'll be receiving a long distance call from me.
Birthday parties are so much work. The tension this morning got pretty thick. We almost didn't get everything done because I insisted on having a party game. "Pin the wings on Tinkerbell." Chris is a great sketcher. He can draw anything. Tinkerbell, however, turned out to be a challenge. She came out looking...well, a bit evil. Chris even noticed, after we had her hanging on the wall, and said, "Why do I always do that?"
Ella invited a bunch of kids from her preschool class. They had so much fun - they just love each other. I guess that's what it's all about.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Harrison just runs from the camera, so you'll have to "endure" more pictures of my Ella
I've totally decided that I could handle staying at home - ALL THE TIME. Chris, however, reminded me that if this happened I would probably spend too much money. He's right. With access to crowd-free weekday shopping, there's no telling what I could do. I don't like, though, staying home for not-so-wonderful reasons.
Last week I was off from school, and this week I went in on Monday but then Tuesday and Wednesday I stayed home with a sick girl. Chris stayed this morning and took her to the doctor. After a lovely procedure involving the longest Q-tip up her nose EVER, she has been diagnosed with (drumroll, please) the flu.
It started Saturday morning. Ella woke up. Asked for breakfast. Gulped it down and then projectile vomited into the kitchen sink. She seemed perfectly fine afterwards. No whining or tears. Just requests for more food. We thought it might have been a mild something that was gone. We tentatively packed her things for ski lessons and threw a bucket in the van as a last-minute precaution.
Thinking I was mom-of-the-year, I packed the kids' lunches for the ride to the resort (about 40 minutes) so that they would be fully nourished for their afternoon. Ella ate just fine, but started complaining about her neck. She ALWAYS complains about her neck in the car. We stopped worrying about this complaint about two years ago. We have no idea what the problem is, but she hasn't died or fallen over so it must not be too terrible. Anyway, the neck complaint was followed by stomach complaints. We were still in denial because the traffic up the canyon was terrible. We were focused on getting to the lessons on time. About five miles from the top, the traffic became gruesome. Cars were parked all along the side of the road and there were people walking with ski equipment everywhere. Apparently, large amounts of fresh snow, warm temps and sunshine attract everybody and their brother to the top of picturesque mountains to utilize fabulous ski resorts. For some reason we were surprised.
In stop and go traffic, she threw up lunch. It was a wonderful scene. I think my favorite part was the "YUCK, YUCK, YUCK!" spewing out of Harry. No sympathy, just disgust. We delivered him to his lesson and then drove back down. She seemed much better - we even ran to the furniture store to purchase a couch we'd been contemplating - but it keeps coming back. Not the stomach stuff. Now it's a runny nose, fever, sore throat and INTENSE, NON-STOP coughing. Tomorrow we'll be home again. I pray it's almost over - this is getting painful to watch. Nothing worse than helplessly watching your child in discomfort.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Like Grandfather, like granddaughter
When I was little, my dad painted every surface of our house. It took him years. When he was working on the woodwork, especially, he would stick out his tongue and contort his mouth in a really weird way. If I brought attention to this, he would overexaggerate and it would always make me and my brother laugh.
I forgot about this until I had Ella. As she is learning to write words, or while she is manipulating Playdoh, she does the same thing.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Down five
So, here we go again. I’m back on Weight Watchers. What is this? My fifth or sixth time? I don’t know anymore. I am not going to meetings or paying to get weighed. I don’t need to – I know the system so well, and already own all their “tools”, so why bother? I would love to know why I keep losing and gaining the same 10-15 lbs. over and over again, but frankly – I’m sick of thinking about it.
I have a couple of different incentives this time. First, I have become extremely embarrassed about how I look in a bathing suit. This is an issue because there is a pretty cool indoor pool in our neighborhood. Ella had an invite to a birthday party there a few weeks ago and I donned a suit as she isn’t extremely comfortable swimming alone. It was excruciatingly awful – exposing myself in front of all the other preschool moms and dads. Both kids had a blast and expressed interest in returning as soon as possible. All I could think about was how I was going to distract this thought from their heads. I’m not sure this is a great parenting technique. Also, I am heading to Florida in late March. More bathing suit wearing. Yuck.
I’ve got another incentive – I want to win a contest. I’m not normally a competitive person. Being competitive means that one excels at something. I usually am more in the “moderately competent” area of things rather than excelling. However, after all the dieting I’ve done over the years, I have found my greatest skill. I can lose weight. For a while. Which is why this contest is perfect for me – it’s only six weeks long. It’s cleverly called “The Biggest Loser”. It’s being held at my new school. I figured I could use a boost and reluctantly joined. I didn’t have a team, so I was put on one. I am now on a team (The Desperate Housewives) with three other non-teachers and THE PRINCIPAL. This changed everything. I now feel a stronger expectation to take the contest seriously.
All of a sudden, I’ve started eating in the teacher’s lounge so that I can appear as more of a team player. I am exchanging dieting tips with anyone and everyone. It’s actually a bit scary – I’m really knowledgeable. People are seeking me out to find out the name of my 1 point bread and my brand of ice cream sandwich (Skinny Cow, by the way.) I guess this is one way to finally get to know my co-workers a bit better.
I’ve been somewhat reclusive since I started this new job. I stuck to my work, stayed in my office and only ventured out when I needed something. Now, however, I am starting to (gasp) make some new friends. I’m not going to go crazy, or anything. No scrap booking parties or happy hours, but I do exchange weekend stories with a few people once in awhile now. This diet thing, though, is my ticket. It really has everyone talking.
By the way – I’m tied for first place.
I have a couple of different incentives this time. First, I have become extremely embarrassed about how I look in a bathing suit. This is an issue because there is a pretty cool indoor pool in our neighborhood. Ella had an invite to a birthday party there a few weeks ago and I donned a suit as she isn’t extremely comfortable swimming alone. It was excruciatingly awful – exposing myself in front of all the other preschool moms and dads. Both kids had a blast and expressed interest in returning as soon as possible. All I could think about was how I was going to distract this thought from their heads. I’m not sure this is a great parenting technique. Also, I am heading to Florida in late March. More bathing suit wearing. Yuck.
I’ve got another incentive – I want to win a contest. I’m not normally a competitive person. Being competitive means that one excels at something. I usually am more in the “moderately competent” area of things rather than excelling. However, after all the dieting I’ve done over the years, I have found my greatest skill. I can lose weight. For a while. Which is why this contest is perfect for me – it’s only six weeks long. It’s cleverly called “The Biggest Loser”. It’s being held at my new school. I figured I could use a boost and reluctantly joined. I didn’t have a team, so I was put on one. I am now on a team (The Desperate Housewives) with three other non-teachers and THE PRINCIPAL. This changed everything. I now feel a stronger expectation to take the contest seriously.
All of a sudden, I’ve started eating in the teacher’s lounge so that I can appear as more of a team player. I am exchanging dieting tips with anyone and everyone. It’s actually a bit scary – I’m really knowledgeable. People are seeking me out to find out the name of my 1 point bread and my brand of ice cream sandwich (Skinny Cow, by the way.) I guess this is one way to finally get to know my co-workers a bit better.
I’ve been somewhat reclusive since I started this new job. I stuck to my work, stayed in my office and only ventured out when I needed something. Now, however, I am starting to (gasp) make some new friends. I’m not going to go crazy, or anything. No scrap booking parties or happy hours, but I do exchange weekend stories with a few people once in awhile now. This diet thing, though, is my ticket. It really has everyone talking.
By the way – I’m tied for first place.
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