Dull Moments Do Not Exist

We all know the saying "never a dull moment".  That could not be more true for me, thanks to my dear children.  And dogs.  And just life in general.

(Warning:  the following snippets will contain the word poop more than once.  So, if that is too much for you to handle, stop reading now.)

Yesterday was going to be a chill kind of day.  With no definite plans, we were going to just hang out and do whatever pleased us.  However, by around 11:00, I thought we should get out for some fresh air.  Perhaps it would be hot and humid air, but we'd be out of the house.  Actually, it wasn't miserably hot yet, so I suggested to Sadie that we go to the park and maybe even take a picnic.  Or we could go pick up food and take it to the park to eat.  I figured I'd be killing two birds - wear them out before nap time and not mess up the kitchen with lunch.

Did Sadie agree to my plan?  No.  OK, Sadie, what would you like to do then?  Her response - go to the backyard and pick up dog poop.  What?  I just laughed and went on to the next thing.  She then comes to me with two plastic grocery bags and said "come on!"  To the back yard we went.  She didn't really pick up any dog poop, but she sure pretended to.  After our poop patrol was over with and the kids had played, we went inside and scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed our hands.

On to lunch and naps, no problem.

After naps, it was time for Sadie's first gymnastics class!  She was excited, I was excited, and Harrison was excited too!  At least he seemed to be.  This is my first experience with this sort of extracurricular activity.  I mean, she's had swim lessons at our neighborhood rec center, but it was very laid back.  Uhm, not this gymnastics place.  Oh my!  People everywhere!  Moms, dads, nannies, siblings - aaahhhh!!!  Sadie did a great job and went right in without looking back.  I had so much fun watching her, but not so much fun keeping Harrison contained and happy for an hour.

By the time we left, I was exhausted.  Not to mention developing a migraine.  I sort of felt it coming on earlier in the day, but it was really hitting me by the time we left.  Shame on me for ever leaving the house without my Rx.  In the car Sadie said that her tummy was so hungry for Chicken Away.  I love my child.  Who am I to argue with her, especially since daddy is out of town?  So to CFA we went.  Things were going well until we were almost finished.....

I knew this day was coming.  Sadie informs me in a voice loud enough for all around me to hear - mom, I gotta go poop!  Sadie, ssshhhh!!  I assumed she was just ready to get up from the table.  Wrong.  She told me to get Harrison and let's go!  She was at the bathroom door before I had Harrison out of the high chair.  And once I finally got to the bathroom door, she was in a stall with her pants down.  Oh dear, she's serious.  I have real issues with public restrooms, so this was sort of like a nightmare for me. She is taking care of her business while I'm chasing Harrison in the handicap sized stall, trying to keep him from touching everything.  I'm embarrassed to say we were in there a while.

Remember that migraine that I'd felt coming on earlier?  Yeah, it was really making itself known by this time.

No way we were finishing our meal after spending so much time in that public restroom stall.  And of course Harrison pooped while we were in there.  Did I take a diaper inside with me?  Nope.  And of course it was family night with a clown making balloon animals and making faces.  Sadie really wanted her arm painted.  But you know what?  You can't get everything in life, right?  I had just spent more time than I'm comfortable with in the bathroom (so sorry, CFA), my boy has a dirty diaper, and my head is killing me!  Sorry, Sadie, I'll let you put on some of my makeup when we get home.

My plan was to run into the grocery store for milk after we ate.  How did we go through two gallons of milk since Friday?!  Instead, I put two stinky/germy kids into the car and did what any person in their right mind would do.  I got back into the CFA drive thru and ordered two milks.  And an ice cream cone.  If anything was going to help my head at this point, ice cream would.

How do I wrap this up without it being too abrupt?  I don't know.  But I was lying in bed with Sadie, it was quiet, she was calm, all that could be heard was the a/c.  She whispered - hey mom, what's that noise?  The air conditioner.  Nope, it's my stomach.  Like I said, dull moments do not exist.

Who Am I?

Kris had to take a personality test for work.  It was fun reading his results, the majority of what it said was right on.  I told him I wanted to take the test also.  Then I changed my mind.  Did I really want to know that much about myself?  But then I changed my mind again.  Why not?

The test was geared towards those who work outside the home.  I decided to answer questions based on how I would have answered while teaching.  The first mistake I made was taking the test while the kids were awake.  I had them settled in front of the television (props to me, super mom).....so I thought. I finished the first portion of the test while yelling into another room to answer questions and respond to comments like - hey mom, where's Cinderella?  Momma, Harrison going up the stairs!  Hey, Harrison got the remote in his mouth!  Etc., etc., etc.  Just like I'm doing right now as I attempt to write this.

The second half of the test required seven minutes of my time.  That's asking a lot.  I waited until Harrison was in bed for a little nap before starting it.  Sadie can easily watch seven minutes of tv without getting distracted.  ha ha ha ha ha ha.  I laugh.  I began the test which was full of mathematical questions and questions I really needed to focus on.  I was about two minutes in when Sadie decided to join me.  She was crawling on me, talking to me, and doing things that required me to stop and say - Sadie, are you crazy?  Don't do that!  No wonder my session expired before I finished.  aaahhhhh!!!

I got the results a couple of days later.  There were some comments made that were very true and some that were very wrong.  Let's explore the depths of my personality, shall we?

- You tend to be comfortable making decisions

Uhm, that's a negative.  I have to get opinions/suggestions from Kris, mom, friends, and sometimes even strangers before making many decisions.  I buy stuff, I return it.  I don't buy stuff, yet go back more than once trying to decide if I really want or need it.  I make or don't make decisions based on how others might react and feel.  If it will hurt someone's feelings, it makes decision making that much worse.

- you tend to be more direct with your communications 
Just ask Kris how wrong this is.

- You tend to be more comfortable than most people with confrontational situations
- Your higher than average comfort level with confrontation may cause you to be more direct with others than they are comfortable with.
Could anything be more wrong?  I avoid confrontation at all costs.  Example:  My housekeeper.  I haven't been happy with her for a while.  We can't communicate because of a language barrier.  But I am able to translate things online.  However, I shy away from translating things that are confrontational.  Even if it is to tell her that I need her to clean something differently/better.  The thing is, she's a nice lady, never missed a day, always on time.  I have psyched myself up two weeks in a row now to tell her that we won't be needing her starting in September.  I chickened out last week.  And again this week.  I was prepared.  Until she walked in, picked up Harrison, hugged him, gave him a kiss, and said - I like him!  She would have been crushed if I broke the news to her.  What am I to do?!

There are more things that I do not agree with, but now let me see if I can find anything in the results that I DO agree with.....

- Tends to be friendly and sociable, but also able to work alone when necessary

I try to be friendly and sociable, but I do prefer working alone.

- Work environments that are highly team oriented and require Traci to continually collaborate with others in order to accomplish tasks will be less motivating

Yeah, I'm not good with team/group work.  I NEVER liked group work in school - I'd much rather do it myself.  And team planning at school was a killer for me.

- Tends to be distractible and easy going when it comes to details and plans
Yep.  Details?  Who needs 'em?
- Traci prefers an environment where they can simply react to what's going on versus planning ahead

Yep again.  My best lessons at school were the ones that just came to me in the middle of teaching that I was able to expand on.

So, based on this test, I'm not a very nice person at times - confrontational, doesn't work well with others, blah blah blah.  Perhaps I should retake the test when I'm not refereeing two kids, because I was totally confrontational with them during the test taking time!  So, the question still remains....who am I?  The world may never know.

I have no idea what happened to the formatting of this....this page and the preview page look totally different, and I'm not smart enough (nor do I really care - you know, details....who needs 'em?) to play  with it for fear of really making a mess of it.

This and That and Happy National Hot Dog Day!

So many random things running through my mind.  Where do I begin?

It's hard to wrap my brain around the fact that one year ago this morning I got out of bed and thought - something doesn't feel right.  I think this is it.  I woke Kris and told him to get ready, today was baby day.  It only took a few minutes for contractions to set in.  Blah blah blah, Harrison showed up after midnight.

I'm not a pretty pregnant girl.  And I'm not a pretty just gave birth 24 hours or so ago girl.  So when Princess Kate made her appearance a couple of hours ago looking all beautiful and glowy and not swollen, I thought - yeah, she's a princess alright.  Who else can look that great the day after giving birth.  (actually, I know a couple of girls like that.  So not fair.)  And then I flash back to my fascination with Princes Di.  And my crush on Prince William.  I sure thought he was a cutie.

Wow, I am so rambling.

This morning I woke up planning on going to Jazzercise.  However, my kids decided to actually sleep late this morning.  So late that I gave up on the idea of making it to the gym in time for my class.  About fifteen minutes before it was to begin, I look outside, and there are my in-laws.  What are they doing here?  This wasn't planned.  Surprise!  They said that I knew they were coming.  Wrong.  Whatever, it gave me an opportunity to go to the gym after all!

Drill Sergeant was the instructor today, so I always feel like I get a really good workout when she's in the lead.  I came home sweaty.  In-laws left, Sadie was hungry.  What was I craving?  A pretzel dog from Sonic!  Boy, they have good marketing people.  I've been wanting to try one ever since seeing the first commercial advertising them.  So, we loaded up and headed to Sonic.  (which isn't in the most convenient location, by the way.  But when you crave a pretzel dog....)  I mean, I had a good workout thanks to Drill Sergeant, didn't I?  I can afford a trip to Sonic.

Little did I know that today was National Hot Dog Day and Sonic would be offering $1 chili cheese dogs.  Who knew so many people would know about this day and be lined up?  I place my order, the girl repeated it, then a long pause.......I'm sorry, we're out of pretzel buns.  Can we make your pretzel dog with a regular hot dog bun?  Are you serious?  Then it's NOT a pretzel dog anymore.  ggggrrrrr!!!!!  I told her to cancel the whole order and I was going to start over.  I did end up with a $1 dog, though.  But not what my taste buds were set for.

Anyway....all of that to say....Happy Birthday yesterday, Prince XYZ.  Almost Happy Birthday, Harrison.  And Happy National Hot Dog Day, Nation!  Everyone go out and eat some cake and a hot dog.  Bon Appetit!

Am I On Candid Camera?

I love getting pedicures.  For several reasons.  I like the little foot and leg massage that go along with it. I like the way my feet look and feel when they're finished.  I don't like feet, even my own, so it's best that someone else (poor ladies) deal with them.  It never fails that I get comments like - you need deluxe.  You feet very dry.  You need wear shoes and socks.  I know.  I know.  I know.  I have dry yucky feet and heels.

Kris is not a fan of my feet either.  So today I finally went to see a dermatologist about them.  Kris got a recommendation from a co-worker for this particular doctor.  The recommendation came with a sort of "warning"....that this doc was old school.  Doesn't even take insurance - come prepared with cash or check.  Uhm, the old school comment, that was an understatement.

I walk into the office and am hit in the face with a smell.  The smell of an antique store?  Your great-grandfather's house?  Interesting.  Then I try to take in my surroundings.  Wood paneling.  In a doctor's office?  Old dishes and candlesticks on top of (I'm sitting here trying to think of what they were on top of) old pieces of furniture.  There was a big glass case or something right in front of the receptionist's window that you had to lean way over to sign in.  Oh, and the receptionist.  A bit ghetto, maybe?  Talking to the kid playing with puzzles on the floor next to her chair.

I sign in and hear a nasty rattling cough.  Yeah, that was coming from the 89 year old lady in a corner working on files.  I take my seat in a rickety chair to fill out my new patient paperwork as I watch the lady and young girl in the waiting living room (not a waiting room, not a living room, a sort of combo) eat their Handi Snacks.  Where am I?!  Should I run now?

I hear my name called.  I look up to find the doctor.  Oh, but you see, this wasn't just any ol' doctor.  This was a man who might weigh 95 pounds soaking wet with his stained white Wrangler jeans on.  Take off his black cowboy boots and he might only weigh 90 pounds.  I follow him into a room while checking out his denim Wrangler shirt.  He told me to have a seat, he sat across from me.  And that's when I had a hard time focusing on anything other than his eyebrows.  His Andy Rooney eyebrows.  And his out of control hair.  And his black teeth.

This is a joke.  Right?  This MUST be a joke.

What brings you in today?  My heels.  He puts on his chemist safety goggle-like glasses to take a look.  Oh, come on.  They're not THAT bad.  It was a very quick look before he started telling me of the prescription he was going to give me for some sort of acid.  Yeah, acid.  Maybe my heels are that bad.

He's writing out my Rx.  I'm checking out more old dishes and candlesticks in the room.  And all I can say is - I like all your collections.

Prescription in hand, I go back to write my check for the visit.  The receptionist had to first stop talking to the lady behind the counter bottle feeding her baby to tell me the amount.  I quickly wrote my check and almost tripped over what I could have sworn was a camera on my way out.

Yeah, I was on Candid Camera.  Surely I was.

(Oh, and he told me to call back in a month to let him know that everything is perfect.  I'm almost positive he won't be getting a call back from me.  I wonder if he still uses a rotary phone....)

Feeling Old

Last night I had dinner with three dear friends.  We keep in touch through email and texts and voicemail and Facebook.  But last night we actually got to SEE each other.  Live and in person!  It was a great time of catching up.

As we were talking, one friend said that if she had a choice between a million dollars and a full night's sleep in her bed, she'd probably take her bed.  Another said - my bones are creaking!  Someone chimed in with what do you think about Botox?  Well, I was recently told that I had wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, so that might not be a bad idea.  We all dream of going to Target during the day.  Alone.  With makeup on.  Our bodies are going south.  I spoke up - girls, we're not THAT old.

But today I felt it.  At least a little bit.  I had to go to the middle of nowhere and my gas light came on.  I found a station with old pumps.  I mean, I was able to use my credit card at the pump, so they weren't THAT old, but....anyway.  I took off the gas cap and could not get the nozzle in.  At all.  I tried.  And tried.  And bent over to look in for a better look.  What is wrong with this thing?  I put the gas cap back in, canceled my transaction.  Then I tried again.  I'm going to figure this thing out!  There were two men at a pump near me who were probably being entertained.  I came close to asking for help.  Then I realized I had the diesel pump nozzle thing.  Hhmmm...who knew they were different sizes.  Good thing they are!  So yeah, I felt old and dumb.

Then I went to Old Navy.  The shorts are all too short.  The dresses are too thin and clingy.  Who wants to wear a strapless bra with those shirts with weird straps and cutouts?  But that's not what made me feel old.  It was the music.  Oh my gosh, the music.  Not only did I not understand it, but it was loud.  Annoyingly loud.  So loud that it was making me very anxious and almost jittery and tempted to ask someone to check the volume.  Why must it be so loud?!  Not that I want Kenny G being piped in for my listening pleasure.  I don't even care if I could understand the music, just turn it down!!!  I thought - get me out of here, I'm too old for this!

So yeah, I might not be that old.  But I sure am feeling it.

Seven Whole Years

Kris measures our marriage in dog years, so actually it could read Thirty-five Whole Years.  Anyway.... ok, I started thinking about this after I posted it originally, and I promise I know how to multiply.  It should be Forty-nine Whole Years, not Thirty-five.  Wow.  That's embarrassing.  ha!

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary.  Aawwww, you might say.  Yeah, it was spent taking care of a sick little boy.  Romantic, huh?  And according to my Timehop app, last year's anniversary was spent taking care of a sick little girl.  Good grief.

A few months ago I mentioned here that you should hear my wedding story.  Since yesterday was our anniversary, I thought it was time to share.

As in typical Traci fashion when it comes to the dramatics during major life events, I didn't fail myself in the least for my wedding.

I love weddings and everything about them.  Always have.  My grandmother made wedding cakes, directed and catered wedding, she was a jack of all trades.  I tagged along to who knows how many weddings starting at a very young age.  I would dream about my wedding - the dress, the cake, the ceremony, the flowers, etc., etc.

I finally had everything I needed for a wedding.  I couldn't wait for school to be out so I could go home and do all the last minute wedding stuff - exciting times!

The Tuesday before my wedding, I wasn't feeling so great.  Nerves?  Excitement?  Surely I wasn't getting sick.  Then something hit me on Wednesday.  Full force.  By Thursday I was throwing up.  I'm being completely honest when I say I hadn't thrown up in years.  Many years.  But of course I had to break that record the week of my wedding.  I remember vividly lying on my parents' couch and couldn't get up in time before I started losing whatever was in my stomach.  I called my dad crying and said that I just couldn't stop throwing up and couldn't make it to the bathroom or outside.  Sweet daddy came back to the house as quickly as he could to clean up my mess and help take care of me.

There is just something wrong with this picture.  I was supposed to be enjoying my wedding week.  I had things to do!  Mom was getting to do all the fun stuff without me!  Kris and his parents arrived on Thursday.  They all had a nice dinner together while I was miserable.  I wanted to lose weight before my wedding, but that's not how it should be done.

Friday afternoon, I had to pull myself together and find the strength to go to the rehearsal and dinner.  I made it, but I couldn't eat.  I just sat staring at a plate of fajitas wishing I could eat something.

My friend and I stayed in a hotel that Friday night.  That's the wild and crazy thing to do in Carthage - stay in a hotel on the loop rather than at your parents' house the night before you get married.  I woke up on the morning of my wedding, and I was ravenous!  And what was the only thing that would satisfy my extreme hunger?  Popcorn chicken from Sonic.  I left a note next to my sleeping friend and went to Sonic.  Classy, huh?  I felt much better.

Fast forward a few hours.....getting ready at the church.  I notice that mom and some others were sort of whispering.  Finally they broke the news.  My dad was sick.  Remember how I said he was having to clean up my mess?  Yeah, his turn now.  On my wedding day!  My mom asked me if I'd rather have my brother or Pops walk me down the aisle.  What?!  No, this isn't happening!  Thankfully, though, daddy (very weakly) was able to walk me to my groom.  But that's about it.  The ceremony hadn't been going on very long when I caught a glimpse of him leaving.  He came back into the church just before we were pronounced husband and wife.  We took some pictures after the ceremony, and that was the last I saw of my dad that day.

In the chaos of more pictures and getting to the reception, I didn't realize that my brother left with my dad.  He had to drive him home and get him in bed.  By the time my brother made it back to the reception, it was almost over.

aaaahhhhh!!!  Did anything go as planned?  I look back at my wedding and sort of laugh.  Did I get to have a fun wedding week?  No.  Did the reception get set up as I wanted it to?  Not exactly.  Did my dad get to enjoy the day?  No.  But did I marry the man God made for me?  Yes.  That's all that matters.

So, here's to seven thirty-five more wonderful years!  Make that Forty-Nine!!!

Three Years Ago

Yesterday I filled you in bored you with my labor story, so this is part two for those of you who've been so anxiously waiting.....

OK, so pitocin, contractions, epidural, check check check.  I went from 0 to 9 pretty quickly.  By now everyone has gathered at the hospital - my parents, Kris's parents, my brother and his family.  Everyone was in and out of the room, all is going as it should.

It was almost midnight when it was time to push.  I pushed.  And pushed.  And pushed some more.  I was beginning to think that the nurse thought I was some wimp and didn't know how to push.  But believe me, I was giving it my all.  Then it was determined that the baby's head was turned to the side.  Yeah, that wasn't going to work.

As my luck would have it, my doctor had jury duty so wasn't on call.  That was disappointing.  But an older doctor (who we found out was one of the top dogs at the hospital) was there to help me out.  Around 1:15 a.m., the doc said that our options were either a c-section or forceps.  He was sure to add that "I'm really good with forceps.".  Kris said - well, go get them!  I guess I didn't have a say in the situation.

(Before all the pushing began, I made it clear that I didn't want the baby put on my chest right after he/she was born.  I wanted him/her cleaned up before I held him/her.  I know, where's my love, right?) There were about 23 people in the delivery room by this time.  At least that's what it felt like to me.  This doctor didn't know me.  I didn't know him.  It was not awkward at all.  Forceps ready, one push, I hear Kris saying "oh my goodness, oh my goodness", and the baby was here!

I never wanted to know the sex of the baby.  Ever.  I've always wanted that exciting moment when the doctor announces - it's a boy!  Or it's a girl!  Well, this stranger who just delivered my baby didn't know that.  I'm crying.  Kris has left my side.  They (all 23 of those people in my room) were working on me.  After I calm down enough to audibly and clearly speak, I ask - what is it?  And the doc replies all nonchalantly and matter of factly - it's a girl.  Oh.  Ok.  So there's that anticlimactic moment I'd been waiting for all my life.

I quickly got over it, because...I had a girl!  A baby!  A child I'd been dreaming of all my life and prayed for for so many years.  My precious, bruised, answered prayer, looks exactly like her daddy Sadie Anne.

And life has never been the same.  What a joy!!