HUNGERPAINS

Sleep paralysis

2006-02-12T21:01:00.000-05:00

I suffer from a sleep disorder that people don't know a lot about. I have "sleep paralysis". I will fall asleep very rapidly and suddenly my mind wakes up but not my body. I can see the room, but I can not move or call out. I feel this great weight on my chest and it is hard to breathe. These episodes are disturbing and have become more frequent as I get older. I used to have one in a year, then 3 in a year, and now it is every couple of months. I thought I was crazy until I researched it on the internet and found out that there is a name for it and that other people have it too.

Anyway, I had an episode last night. I was dead dog tired because I had been on call the night before at the hospital. I had to go in from 11pm to 3 am and when I got home I was spun up and unable to sleep, so I watched a little TIVO before bed. Finally, I was relaxed enough to go to sleep.

I am one of these people who usually falls asleep very rapidly, within 30 seconds of laying down. I am surmising that because my normal sleep pattern was messed up from call, that this may have brought the sleep paralysis on. I absolutely HATE having these episodes. They are very frightening.

In my research, it seems that alien abductees complain of a sleep paralysis-like state. No, I can not claim being abducted by aliens. I never sense anyone in the room with me other than my husband at the computer.

Anyone else have episodes like this?

Change of heart

2006-01-15T19:31:00.000-05:00

I do a fair amount of bitching in my blog, I noticed, so this post is not about bad drivers or bowlers who lack etiquette. I won't say that I won't bitch because I'm not in the habit of making promises that I may not be able to keep, but I will do my best.

I am greatful for so many things in my life and I thank God personally almost daily for the many blessings he sends my way. One of those blessings is my son, Connor.

Connor and I were not always close. I think I fell in love with him when he was about 6 months old. Isn't that a horrible thing for a mother to say? You are suppose to love and cherish your infant from birth....or even before birth, but I can honestly say that I wasn't prepared for motherhood and it reflected in the early relationship that I had with Connor. The whole breastfeeding "thing" was a major issue for me. I felt like a parking meter. I could feed him and then go run errands for 2 hours before I had to be back at the barn for my milking. I'm surprised that I kept it up for as long as I did (4 months) because I did not enjoy it. I had these visions of my infant looking up at me lovingly as I gave nourishment to his little body, and me returning the gaze. Sorry...that's only on the Carnation good start commercials.

I realize now that I suffered from post partum depression. I had lost my father to complications after a lung transplant just 6 weeks before Connor was born...not to mention that I had no clue how much a baby would change my life. I never believed I was going to get a full nights sleep again. I mourned my maiden body, among other things. I resented that I was expected to be so selfless for the benefit of another human being. I had been an only child my entire life and it used to be all about me!

After 6 months, something happened. I guess my maternal instincts kicked in or else I realized that Connor was here to stay and I couldn't take him back like a blouse from Nordstroms. I actually accepted my matronly body--stretch marks, widened hips, and thicker waist. I got joy from hearing my baby coo and gurgle. I looked forward to his milestones. Of course, I had stopped breastfeeding and Connor was sleeping through the night. That helped things tremendously.

He is now a handsome, intelligent, honest, loving 11-almost 12 year old. We have been through several trials and tribulations--chicken pox, ear infections, appendicitis, ADHD, glasses, braces, a broken heart, and the 2nd grade teacher from hell. I'd say we are thick as thieves. I applaud his victories and mourn his defeats. When I am old with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, I will always think of him as the 7 year old, farting in my lap as he joyously shouts, "OUT, ev-vil spir-rits!

(I know some of you are saying, "Don't you have another son." Yes, I do, but he is worthy of his own post and I will write about him between bitching posts. )

The light was red

2006-01-12T18:42:00.000-05:00

I did the dirty deed today--I went to Wal-Mart.

I hate shopping at Wal-Mart because:

1. I spend more time in line waiting to pay for my purchases than I do shopping.

2. It seems to take so much longer to shop there because it is so BIG (It is a super Wal-Mart) and you have to park a couple of football fields from the front entrance. I am not one to wait on a parking space because I despise the passive/aggressive nature of patrons who KNOW you are waiting for their parking space so their sit there in their cars, adjusting the mirror, applying lipstick, socializing with their shopping partner--anything to delay YOU getting into the space so you can get on with your shopping adventure. I will park at the end of the lot before I sit and wait for a space--even in the pouring down rain.

3. They don't have everything I need and I end up going to another grocery store ANYWAY to complete my shopping.

4. They are ALWAYS busy--even if you go in the middle of the night or early in the morning.

5. I can't get out of there in less than an hour.

Today, I went in the afternoon--the same time everyone with a child under the age of 5 shops. All through the store you heard crying babies and toddlers who were forced against their will to trade their naps for shopping with mom in the metropolis of Wal-Mart. After allowing all of my frozen food to thaw and swiping my debit card for $89.03 worth of groceries, I loaded the 9 shapeless, plastic bags and two cases of diet green tea into the trunk of my beetle so that I could make my escape to the solace of my own home.

Our Wal-Mart has a long, outside driveway on the fringes of the parking lot that many people use as a cut-through to the main road. At the main road is a stop light with 2 left turn lanes. I came up behind an elderly couple in a Buick (seriously, do they drive anything else?) in the right lane of the 2 lanes turning left. In the left lane was a Hyundai with 3 young people in it. We all were sitting at a red light-- a L-O-N-G red light, but a red light none-the-less when the elderly woman driver in front of me either didn't realize she had a red light or else she got tired of waiting for a green light. She began rolling through the light at a slow speed. Traffic was barrelling down the main road and was about to hit her, so I honked my horn to alert her that she was about to be mowed down. Well the hyundai in the left turn lane must have taken my horn for a signal to wake up and go! They started to roll through the light too. How stupid! The light was still red. The elderly couple and the hyundai sat in the middle of the intersection while traffic whizzed by in both directions. They reminded me of the frog in the video game "Frogger". All I could see was that little frog getting splattered all over the road as he tried to cross between 18 wheelers and cars.

Well, I am convinced that God looks out for fools because somehow, they rolled through the light without being hit, the light turned green, and we all went on our merry way.

The thing was, if they were in such a hurry that they ran the red light, why did they go 30 miles an hour in a 45 mile per hour zone?

A little catching up to do...

2006-01-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

I know it has been a while since I've been here so I thought I would show my shameful face in cyberspace after being gone over a month. I hurt my back New Years Eve at the bowling alley. Thank God the bowling alley bimbos weren't there to see it or they would have had a good laugh.

I feel like I've lived a lifetime in the last month. The holidays are always big in my family. My parents are both from rural Tennessee and neither one had much growing up. My dad was one of 8 kids and he was lucky to get anything to eat if he wasn't one of the first at the table. My mom was the last of 5...and was a late baby for my grandmother (who is now 93). My mom's family was devoutly Southern Baptist but didn't celebrate any holidays except by going to church. They didn't have a Christmas tree, a Thanksgiving dinner, and didn't even celebrate birthdays.

Well, holidays at my house as a child were a two month festival! My dad made sure I always had lots of gifts at Christmas. We always had big, lavish meals on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years Day. My mother made sure I was surrounded by lots of holiday spirit, decorations, lights, and people who loved me. It was always a special time of year and the tradition continues in my own household for my children. This was a sore spot with my spouse, who came from a poor past, but he has caught the "holiday fever"... and it only took about 15 years. My happiest memories were the holidays, no doubt.

Now that it is all over, the decorations are put away, and you can't go to the store without seeing Valentine's Day stuff, the dust has settled and I can resume a normal life again. Winter is always a downer for me after the holidays. Usually in my part of the world, it is cold, rainy, and miserable, but this week the weatherman has predicted highs in the 60's, so it hasn't been the usual post holiday let down. I like a little snow, but it doesn't seem as though we will get it this year. If we don't get it by mid January, we usually don't get it at all. The best we can hope for is freezing rain, which no one likes except the kids (if it closes school).

I got a pretty awesome treadmill/eliptical for Christmas from my mom. I have been on it a little now that my back feels better. I've been taking it slow because if I re injury it, it takes another 10 days before I can move again. I look forward to using it when/if those cold, rainy days occur this winter.

My older son started basketball season last Saturday. The coach said, "We have practice at 830 pm Monday night". There were choruses of "Oh, MY son will be there. You can count on dat." I was not one of those parents, as I missed the game. My mother relayed this news to me on Sunday and I said "830pm? Is he out of his mind? " Practice lasts an hour. Okay, we are now at 930. The middle school is 15 minutes away. It is now 945 in my mind. My son has to shower before bed. It is now 1000. It will be another 30 minutes (at least) before he can settle down to go to sleep. It is now 1030. Hell NO! On a school night? If it was a Friday night, it would be different. My son is ELEVEN. He plays REC BALL. It is not the NBA, the NCAA, or even a high school team. Connor is a straight A student and I'd like to keep it that way. More power to the mothers who sent their sons to 830 practice. I'm into academics and have high educational and scholarship hopes for my child. Maybe the only way the other boys will get into college is by a basketball scholarship, but that won't be my child. He is mediocre, at best, on the court. I put my foot down and called his coach and the phone call went something like this:

"Hello, may I speak to Coach Williams?"(me)

"Uh, yeah. Hold on." (Coach's 12 year old son)

"Hello?" (Coach)

"Coach Williams? This is Connor's mother. I am calling to inform you that Connor will not be at basketball practice Monday night. It is too late for him. He is in bed on a school night by 9pm so we will see you Saturday at the game." (me)

Silence....

"I will have him shoot baskets and practice in the court after school Monday, but he will not be at your late practice Monday night." (me)

Silence....

"Uh, o....kay." (coach)

"Thank you. Good-bye." (me)

I don't know if he was stunned into silence, shocked, or pissed. I don't know him well enough to conclude anything. It was odd. I guess my child was in the minority and everyone else was planning on showing up for practice at that late hour. Maybe I have different priorities for my children. Am I old-fashioned?

We will see if Connor is even played on Saturday. You can bet I'll be at the game.

Bowling Alley Bimbos

2005-12-02T20:31:00.000-05:00

Every Friday night, we go bowling. It started because my oldest son is on a league, so Cole, Scott, and I bowl on a lane together while Connor bowls with his team.

Tonight, we got lane 37 (one of my personal favorites as I always bowl well on it). We were 1/2 way through our game, when 2 women in their 30s and their 3 children (2 boys that were about 6 or 7 years old and a little girl about 2 years old) began bowling on lane 38. One woman, a petite blonde, had another one on the way. I just want to add that the brunette woman made the word "muffin" come to mind.

The two women were conversing while the children were bowling--neither woman was paying much attention to the children, as they were picking up our personal bowling balls and running around on the lanes. They obviously had no bowling etiquette, as the children were oblivious to anything except when it was their turn to bowl. We have taught our boys not to approach the lane when the bowler next to you is bowling, as you can distract them if they see you in their peripheral vison. They know this and respect this. Even my 5 year old understands the basic rules.

Well, after a while, Scott had had enough. He spoke directly to one of the boys and said, "Son, don't touch my bowling ball!" He said it loud enough so that the conversation between the women was interrupted and they stopped talking to turn and stare at him. I tried to soften the sharpness in his tone by explaining to the boy that the ball is heavy and that he could drop it on his foot or mash his fingers.

It was obvious that the women were offended. When the children had completed a game, the two women approached the management and complained that we were yelling at their kids. I turned to the manager and said, "They have no bowling etiquette. They have allowed their children to run amuck all over our lane, handle our bowling equipment, and bowl out of turn, so we told one of the boys not to pick up the 16 lb bowling ball. Since they wouldn't say anything, we did."

The brunette woman turned on me and said, "I don't yell at my children!"

I said, "Yes, that is obvious."

She said sarcastically, "We didn't realize you aren't suppose to touch anyone else's ball. What is the big deal?"

I was envisioning a big piece of duct tape over her mouth as I answered, "We didn't want your children to mash their fingers in the ball return or possibly drop the bowling ball on their foot."

"Oh, I'm sure you give a shit about my kids." She replied.

Does this woman not know she is dealing with the Queen of Sarcasm? And actually, no, I didn't really give a shit about her kids, but I hate to hear children cry so I replied, "I wouldn't want anyone's child to hurt themselves just because no one was properly supervising them."

Her voice went up an octave in protest as she said, "I watch my children! I just don't believe in yelling at them."

"You mean, you don't believe in disiplining them", I corrected.

"My children turned out fine. " she said.

"So YOU believe." I replied.

Well, the brunette muffin knew she wasn't going to get the last word because I was spun up so she carried her ruffled muffin self and her mini muffin children to the last lane, lane 40--where they drove the older couple bowling next to them, crazy with their undisiplined kids. The older couple actually stopped bowling in mid game and left.

A few minutes later, the brunette's cell phone rang and she began talking animatedly to the person on the other end. Well, while she was talking on the phone, her little 2 year old daughter picked up one of the boy's bowling balls and proceeded to throw it down the lane. The lanes are oiled and when the little girl stepped over the line, her feet went out from under her and SMACK went her little noggin on the floor. The brunette cut her call short to attend to her bruised, non-supervised child. After the child calmed down, she engaged in conversation again with the pregnant blonde. They weren't watching the children--AGAIN and this time, the 2 year old smashed her fingers between the balls as one came out of the ball return. It must have hurt like hell because the little girl had her mouth open and her face screwed up, but no sound was coming from her mouth--until she caught her breath and then the people on lane 1 at the other end stopped bowling to look. I guess they decided the bowling alley wasn't as safe as Chuck E. Cheese, so they left.

As they were leaving, I couldn't resist saying with a smirk as they passed by, "If your children need any more disipline, we'll be here next Friday too!"

Phases

2005-12-01T21:32:00.000-05:00

Either I am destined for sainthood, or I did something really bad in my previous life and I am now paying dearly for it.

BOTH of my children seem to be going through "phases" and I am not going to survive these phases without medication.

My oldest, Connor, is 11 going on 35. Highly intelligent but not a lick of common sense. He just came to me after playing video games for the last 3 hours and said, "I am going to brush my teeth, get a drink of water, study for my science test, study for my social studies quiz, and can you please review my pre-algebra homework?" It is amazing to me that he waits until right before bedtime with this request, assuming that I have no life and that I am full of energy. Perhaps he presumes that I never sleep, never do laundry, never do housework, never go to my part-time job. I think he thinks that I wave my magic wand and it all gets done. I do not operate on his schedule, in fact, I am his polar opposite. When my feet hit the floor in the morning, I am ready to go, full speed ahead. I peeter out around 9 pm. After all, this is when normal people wind down. Connor is a night person. I have to drag him out of bed in the morning, clutching his pillow and blanket, crying out "No! It can't POSSIBLY be time to get up already. I just went to sleep! " and I have to threaten to knock his lights out to get him asleep at night. When he does get to sleep, 1/2 the time, he sleepwalks, going into everyone's room in the middle of the night. He came to my side of the bed one night and just stared at me like a serial killer. It wigged me out! I told him to quit disturbing the family and go to bed, which is exactly what he did. Basically, he is a good kid--he just thinks the world revolves around him and his schedule. Your usual, self-centered youth.

My other child, Cole, has all the common sense his brother was suppose to get and then some. In fact, he is manipulative, cunning, calculating. Will lie straight to your face, looking like an angel the whole time. Tonight, he came in from the backyard, crying, with a bruise on his hip. When my husband asked him what happened, he said, "I ran into the trampoline." Well, those of you who own a trampoline know that it is about 3 1/2 feet off the ground, which would have injured him at about the level of his front teeth. He would have to be about 7 feet tall for it to bruise his hip. When presented with these facts, he changed his story to one that involved him climbing on the outside of the net on the trampoline and missing his footing, thereby falling on the frame and bruising his hip. I was angry that he was climbing on the outside of the net, but more angry that he LIED about it. I can't STAND it when someone lies to me, but the lies have been pouring from him almost since he could talk. We have punished him and it does not cause him to tell the truth except when it suits him.

Arrrggggghhhh! Being a parent is the hardest, grueling, most thankless job in the world!

The Skin I'm In

2005-11-19T08:52:00.000-05:00

I often ponder things that make me wonder if I am crazy. I have debates with myself, philosophical conversations with myself that would convince a pyschologist that I have a split personality. I believe this comes from being an only child and having no one to talk to regularly--not that I blame my parents. They were doing their part not to over populate the earth by having only one child.

One of my great debates as I rake leaves in my backyard (that has as many trees as a state park) is this: If I was only left with one of my five senses, which would it be? I'm sure you can tell from the title of this post that it would have to be touch.

I love to touch my children's skin. My youngest son has the softest, smoothest skin. It's like touching a marshmallow. He is very fair, so I spend the summer chasing him with the 45 Coppertone--making sure he doesn't get a sunburn. I remember when I was a child that I never wore sunscreen. It just wasn't pushed like it is today which is why, I'm sure, we see so many skin cancers now. That and because of the big hole in the ozone layer.

I love to touch the wonders of nature. When I am outside, I run my hands over the bark of my favorite oak tree in the backyard, feeling it's roughness under my fingertips. I'm sure that the tree is at least 50 years old. It is 40 feet tall, towering over my yard like a sentry. It has watched my children grow for the last 9 years, Tolerated them climbing all over it, provided shade from the hot sun, survived Hurricane Isabel. It is majestic. No wonder the Druids worshipped them.

Every May, we have a migration of ladybugs to our area. It is one of the most amazing events I've ever witnessed. I love to have one light upon my arm and travel to my fingertip. The tickle she provides delights my inner child.

It is a good thing that I am not afraid to touch people, considering my profession. I don't just touch them when I assess them. Many times I can sense when someone needs a hug or their hand held. Ah, the power of human touch is a great secret. It can provide amazing comforts both physically and emotionally. It is truely one of our greatest gifts to share with one another. It is a sense I can not live without.

Flashback Friday

2005-11-18T08:57:00.000-05:00

I pulled out and dusted off my high school yearbook from my senior year the other day, and turned to the inner cover to read some of the comments written by my friends and classmates.

Crush,
Had a great time in Chem class this year. I loved when you got the best of Mr. Thomas, although he took it like a man. Keep smiling! --EJ Dyer

Crush,
It's been a fun year and although we had our differences, I'm glad I got to meet you.--Terri Farmer

Crush,
To a real nice girl, but with a mouth the size of the Grand Canyon. I enjoyed watching you on the softball field. Has anyone ever told you that you have great legs? --Mike

Crush,
To a very sweet and pretty girl. I'm glad I got to know you this year in Government class. You are smart and that will take you far in life. Have a great summer before college, because then it is all work and no play! --Floyd

There is an on-going theme here. EVERYONE called me "Crush". My friends' parents even called me Crush! And I'm about to tell you the story behind my high-school nickname. No, it isn't a love thing...lol...far from it! No, it didn't have anything with the way I hit the softball. It had everything to do with a day in my Chemistry class with Mr. Thomas.

I had Chem class 6th period--last class of the day. It was an okay class. Lots of my friends were in the class so it was a very social hour, especially during lab. Mr. Thomas taught all the Chem classes and the girls thought he was hot. He was probably in his early 30s, tall, handsome, mustache, single. We got away with a lot in his class--especially the girls. Everytime I hear that Police song, "Don't stand so close to me", I think of Mr. Thomas. I could easily see him falling for a student.

Anyway, our class was about implosion. He had a gas can with something in it and was putting it over a heat source with the lid tightly closed. He wanted to show how the can would crush in upon itself after all the fuel burned. While he was explaining the experiment steps to the class, I was talking to Mike towards the back of the class. Mike was my buddy and we always sat next to each other. He was telling me who he was going to invite to the Homecoming dance and we got caught talking by Mr. Thomas. Well, Mr. T must have had a fight with his girlfriend because he wasn't in a good mood. He barked for me to come sit at the front of the class, right in front of the can he was about to implode. I gave him my best pout and proceeded to sit in front of his can glaring at it, hoping the experiment wouldn't work. It would serve Mr. T right for treating me like a first grader.

Well, the can not only imploded, but almost turned inside out. He put it next to the other 4 cans from his other 4 classes and ours was by far, the most twisted. Mr. T joked that ours looked like that because I was glaring at it so hard. He said, "It was Crusher's fault" pointing at me and smiling. Well "Crusher" was shortened to "Crush" and it stuck with me the rest of the year and when I went up to get my diploma at graduation, a chorus of "CRUSH!" rang out through the gym and everyone laughed, because everyone knew the story of me and Mr. Thomas' gas can.

And now, you guys know too.

Reassessment

2005-11-17T12:25:00.000-05:00

In my profession, reassessment is a valuable tool. It allows you to make nursing decisions regarding the best possible care for your patient, which is the desired outcome.

I am therefore ( in order to take the best care of me) reassessing my weight loss goal. I had wanted to lose 15 lbs by Thanksgiving. As of today, I have lost 11 lbs in 4 weeks and I have 4 lbs to lose in one week. Being that it is my 5th week into this weight loss adventure, I highly doubt that I will make that 4 lb goal. I would, however like to be 9 lbs lighter by New Years Day, and I think that is doable.

A big downfall for people losing weight is to set lofty goal that we know we can't achieve. A lot of our failure can be attributed to feelings of hopelessness when we don't achieve that goal we set for ourselves. Then we eat to comfort ourselves, which sets us up for cyclic failure resulting in weight gain and low self esteem.

I am humble enough to admit that I won't be losing 4 lbs by next Wednesday, but it isn't enough to drive me off of my weight loss program. I look at the 11 that I've lost and that pleases me. I have cut my New Year's Goal by 5 lbs, which I KNOW is achievable. I refuse to punish myself for not reaching the first goal. My feet are made of clay, I am human, I don't walk on water.

For Want of a Chainsaw

2005-11-16T09:45:00.000-05:00

21...

That was when I was finally viewed as an adult (I still don't think of myself as an adult) by society.

That is blackjack!

That is the number of oak trees in my backyard and the number of days it is going to take me to bag the leaves. I would run out there right now and start bagging except for a few issues:

1. It rained last night, so they are wet. The only thing worse than bagging leaves is bagging wet leaves.

2. We have new little shoots of grass coming up after seeding a couple of weeks ago. I would hate to disturb their growth and take away their protective blankets from the frost.

3. Leaves cammoflage the dog turds that are lying in wait for me to "discover".

I am debating whether or not to wait until they all fall, or bag them weekly so that I don't have 142 thirty gallon trash bags at the curb like I did last fall. (Did I mention that these oaks are at least 40 feet tall? That's a lot of leaves.) The trashman hated me.

I do joke about the chainsaw in the title. I love trees and wouldn't cut one down without extreme consideration and cause. They shade my son's sandbox in the summer, they provide a home for the birds that come to my feeder and the squirrels that tease and entertain my dogs. I do love trees, but I love them more in the spring and summer than I do in the fall.

My Jack Russell Terrier

2005-11-15T21:00:00.000-05:00

I tell people I have a Jack and the usual response is that they raise their eyebrows with a smile and say, "They are a little high strung, aren't they?" or "High energy dogs--those Jack Russell Terriers. Good thing you have those 2 boys to wear him out." Murphy (that's my JRT) is what my husband calls a mutant. Murphy is not a very typical JRT, from what I hear. He sleeps a lot, likes to curl up on the couch, and loves to be rubbed on the ears.

Not long after I got Murphy, his ears became very crusty, his hair fell out around his eyes and on the edge of his ears, and his nails looked diseased. I took him to the vet and they said he had demodex mange. We had him dipped, got rid of the mange, but the nails still looked bad and the crusting was still on the edge of his ears. Truthfully, I don't believe the dog ever had demodex mange and I subjected him to the mitaban dips for nothing. I still feel bad about this. His condition persisted so I took him to a doggy dermatologist. After an exam and a few skin biopsies, I had a diagnosis to work with. Murphy had cell poor vasculopathy. Apparently, his outlying capillaries are so small that the red blood cells can't get through these tiny capillaries to perfuse the distal tissues/nails. Without the blood supply, the hair falls out, the nails become brittle and break (he has broken 9 nails), and the skin becomes crusty with lesions.

I am posting all this in the event that someone out there can direct me to some information on this canine affliction, as I haven't been able to find much on the net. Murphy takes medication(nicinamide and tetracycline). I have the option of putting him on Trental, another drug to treat his problem.

Any advice or direction is appreciated. Murphy sends his thanks as well.

Microwave vs. Crockpot

2005-11-13T13:16:00.000-05:00

I visited at a church today and they are discussing a series of sermons about life. Today's discussion was about sex. OMG...talking about sex in church! My 93 year old, Southern Baptist grandmother would have had a heart attack, but she is deaf and wouldn't have been able to understand the sermon.

Anyway, the pastor was saying how men are like microwaves (done in 3 minutes) and women are like crockpots (slow to warm up). I find this so amusing. Not only are men done in 3 minutes, but isn't the food that comes out of a crockpot usually absolutely delicious because it has simmered and slow-cooked all day?

He touched on a lot of sexual issues that are addressed in the Bible, especially those dealing with adultery. You could see half the congregation squirming in their seats and everyone was busting down the door to get out of the sanctuary at the end. No one came up at the end of the sermon, least the congregation think they had a problem with sex, adultery, porn, or masterbation. All of which were discussed today.

The pastor stated the topic at the beginning and said, "I'll bet all you visitors are wishing you went to the Methodist Church today!"

I think I will go back next Sunday. They are discussing child rearing and I'd like to hear what he has to say about this. I'm always looking for ways to improve my parenting skills and I need new threats because my children aren't buying the orphanage or military school threats anymore.

Dance with me

2005-11-12T19:53:00.000-05:00

"Mommy, dance with me", my 5 year old son pleads.

I don't hesitate, as these days won't always be. I pick one of the most embarrassing CDs on my iTunes (Backstreet Boys). but it IS good dance music.

So Cole and I dance, and we sing, and we laugh, falling into a heap on the floor, both of us dizzy from endless twirls in the computer room. I hug him, wishing I could make time stand still so the moment would last an eternity, but knowing that in 10 years he will want me to drop him a block from the mall so he isn't seen with the "old lady".

I don't know when exactly I fell in love with this beautiful creature. I just know that my children are my world. They fill my heart with a love I've never known and I feel so fortunate that I have been entrusted with their lives. Sure I joke that I am going to drop them at the orphanage, ship them off to military school, or sell them to the gypsies, but the truth is they are 2 of the best blessings I've ever been given. My life is forever enriched because of them. I never miss an opportunity to tell them and show them that they are loved.

That is why I dance...

10 lbs in 3 weeks!

2005-11-09T09:20:00.000-05:00

I am down 10 lbs as of today. 10 lbs in 3 weeks---this is the most success I've seen in years and I am pretty pleased about it. In the past 3 weeks, I've been reading labels to see what I can substitute in the grocery store for the items I get at NS.

One big change I am going to do is eat more fruit and vegetables. I love carbs--not necessarily sugary carbs, but I love baked sweet potatoes, bread, pasta, and rice. Those have got to be limited for me, personally, to lose weight. I do not burn them efficiently enough to consume them in any kind of quantity.

I continue to be very active. I live 2 miles from the mall, where I go to Curves. I combine my walk and work out by walking to Curves and back, 3 times a week. This is 12 miles a week with 3 days of resistance training. I do know from experience that I will eventually have to vary my workout, or I will plateau. Colder weather is approaching, so my exercise options are limited. I don't own a treadmill, stationary bike, nor do I have an indoor pool. I usually walk inside the mall during inclement weather. During the summer, I swim, bike, bounce on the trampoline, walk/jog. During the winter, I usually walk indoors and jump rope in the garage (talk about a work out--my heart rate is up within a minute). I do have some yoga and aerobic tapes, which I may have to get out and blow the dust off of for some variety.

I'm going to be seeing my extended family at Thanksgiving and hopefully I will be down another 5 lbs by then. They all look like linebackers (my family is built like Sherman tanks), so it will feel good to be one of the smaller ones at the gathering.

Tic-Toc-Tic-Toc

2005-11-08T20:45:00.000-05:00

Okay, I've been having palpitations the last few days and I found out my potassium is low. Too much water and too much urination has caused me to lose potassium, according to the doctor. I will be having an orange or banana every day, along with a multi vitamin, to make sure I keep my potassium level in the normal range. I am also staying with 64 oz of water instead of 100 oz every day.

No wonder I felt like shit....

Kindergarten Woes

2005-11-07T18:04:00.000-05:00

Today was parent-teacher conference for my son, Cole, who is in kindergarten.

I just want to say that kindergarten today is not what it was when I was in kindergarten 35 years ago. We fingerpainted for Pete's sake. My son is doing stuff I did in 2nd grade. At this rate he is going to be twice as smart as I am. Whatever happened to making pictures with macaroni?

We arrived early, as was requested in the note sent home, and of course, we were kept waiting to see the teacher...just like at the doctor's office. We got in there and had our 15 minutes of "this is how Cole scored on his PAL test(expected score was 24. Cole scored 41), this is what he is doing well, this is what he needs to improve upon. Then came the behavior issues.

Apparently my son is like me and doesn't play well in the same sandbox with others. He is easily distracted in "centers", where he does class work with 3 other kindergarteners at a table. He has blown in another classmates face (after she blew in his but didn't get caught), and he has threatened another classmate for opening the door on him while he was in the bathroom doing his business. Legitamate paybacks, if you ask me.

Cole is big for 5. He is 4 feet tall and 58 lbs and if I was 5, I wouldn't mess with him based on shear size. I hate to call him a bully, but he doesn't take crap from anyone and it is not looked upon favorably when you stand up for yourself in primary school. The motto is turn the other cheek...then rat out the other kid. Cole doesn't do this. You shove him, he shoves back twice as hard. In other words, he takes matters into his own hands. Thank God he doesn't have a temper. He is very happy and mild mannered...until you get his dander up.

Anyway, his teacher expressed her concerns and I can't agree to teach my child not to stand up for himself. I don't want him to take anyone's shit, especially not from another 5 year old, but I know that this philosophy will lead to detention 10 years down the road. I'm just waiting for the next note home saying that he dotted someone's eye or chattered their chicklets.

To CPAN or not to CPAN, that is the question

2005-11-05T18:20:00.000-05:00

I must post a little about my life's history before I explain the point I am trying to make.

I graduated from Old Dominion University in 1987 from their nursing program with my BS degree. I also got my license to practice Nursing that same year. I was 21. I worked full time until 2 years ago, when my husband and I decided we made plenty of money and that I could go part time, so I could be home more with our 3 year old and be there after school for my ADHD son to help him focus on homework. I will tell you that I work much harder at home than I did at my nursing job. I work in a PACU (post anesthesia care unit or recovery room).

I am now 40, with a lot of nursing experience under my belt. I feel I am a professional in my field--even an expert. I perform my duties in an exemplary manor with skills and knowlege I have acquired over the years. My evaluations are outstanding and my peers respect me.

Our hospital is now offering a differential for nurses who are certified in their specialites and my area of expertise (PACU) has a certification. One must have a certain amount of hours (1800) , be a Registered Nurse, and score a certain percentage on the certification exam to be able to put "CPAN" after "RN" in your title.

This is my issue: There are 4 nurses in my work area who are CPAN, and they are the LAMEST excuse for a nurse I have ever seen. One hasn't got a "scooby" (i.e. clue) and looks like a deer in the headlights, one is the day time charge nurse and is in meetings 6 1/2 of the 8 hours of her day--pretty useless on a busy unit, one has 2 speeds--"slow" and "stop", and the other we all refer to as "Stepford Nurse" because she is mechanical and robotic with the personality of a radish. Am I aspiring to be like these losers by getting my certification? I can only pray that when I pass the exam in April, that I will maintain my professionalism and conduct myself with the same level of care and compassion that I always have, that the extra initials after my name and title will enhance my image and credibility.

I always knew...

2005-11-04T13:31:00.000-05:00

I took an on line quiz about "What is your seduction style?"

This was my result:

Your Seduction Style: Siren / Rake

You possess an unbridled sensuality that appeals to many.The minute you meet anyone, you can make them crave you almost immediately.You give others the chance to lose control with you... spiraling into carnal bliss.A dangerous lover, you both fascinate and scare those you attract.

What Is Your Seduction Style?

I'm so impressed with myself...

GRRRRR....html code

2005-11-03T09:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, I am not a computer genius, geek, WHATEVER people are calling them these days. I am not up on the lastest way to personalize your web page. I am not a web designer...I am a nurse. I fix people...not html code.

I figured out how to paragraph my profile and bold sections of my profile, but I'll be DAMNED if I can figure out how to link my blog with my profile. I tried unsuccessfully for an hour before I gave up. I even went on line to find the basics out about HTML code. That's how I figured out how to make some of it bold. I'm out of patience now. I will attempt this at a later date.

GRRRRR.....I'm grouchy now.

Save the drama for yer mama!

2005-11-02T14:04:00.000-05:00

I just came home after being at the dentist office with my 11 year old. He had to get 2 fillings and sealants, the first ever for him and it was DRAMA!

The pediatric dentist gave him some valium to take before he came in. Well, I should have been the one taking the valium.

First of all, the dentist has a room that I call the drama room. It has a single chair and sliding doors, in case the occupent is out of control--which is a good idea in a dental office because anxiety spreads through a dental office faster than rumors at work. The drama room is a good idea in my opinion, especially for my kid.

Even with the valium, he was anxious, crying before they even put the nitrous oxide on his nose. I think it was because he was out of control of his life at that particular moment. Pretty soon, though, he was giggling and slobbering. Kicked his shoes off and made himself at home. The procedure went well.

I was checking out and paying my co pay when the receptionist gave me a list of "no-no" foods when you have sealants. I scanned the list, rolled my eyes. I knew that my son was going to have a problem with it. I took the list back into the room with me.

He was still in the chair, recovering from the nitrous when I broke the bad news to him. No starburst, gummy bears, ice, fruit roll ups, etc. He had a meltdown--right there in the dental chair. Closed the doors to the drama room and everything! Sobbed all the way home. He's passed out on his bed right now, snubbing.

I called his father on my way home and I said, "You are taking him next time."

Muffins

2005-11-01T14:11:00.000-05:00

I love this time of year! Except for being unable to get in my jeans from last winter. I hate that part.

Actually I CAN get in them. Getting out of them is the challenge...

I have to wonder about these overweight teenage girls that I see in tight, designer jeans that are like the Grinch's heart--3 sizes too small. Why? They don't look good...and the belly hanging over the waistband is a nice touch. They look like "muffins" when they are baking in the oven. Muffins spill out over the top of the pan. That's what I call them when I see them in the mall...Muffins. That is one thing I won't be is a muffin. I can't stand to have my wind cut off by cutting myself in two. I will buy jeans to fit my waist. They may be lose everywhere else, but the waist will fit. Easier on the reflux disease.

Staying hungry makes me mean

2005-10-26T10:31:00.000-05:00

Okay, I have lost 6 lbs and I hope my ex best friend finds them! I know, that's not nice, but you don't know her.

I am STARVING! I wish I would hit that level in a diet where you aren't hungry anymore. Please don't tell me to drink more water...I had over 100 oz yesterday and I was still hungry. Besides, if I drink more water, I will never be anywhere but the bathroom.

Running in Quicksand

2005-10-21T16:39:00.000-05:00

I have come to the conclusion that I need to invent the 36 hour day. I can not get accomplished in 24 hours what I set out to do--ever! I think I got more done when I worked full time because my free time was so limited that I filled every empty moment with productivity. Now, I stop to smell the air, watch a hummingbird, or listen to a squirrel fussing at its mate for not bringing home enough acorns.

I don't fuss at my mate for not bringing home enough acorns...

Anyway, I started this blog because I started a diet 3 days ago, and I am pretty cranky about it. I needed an outlet because I am lashing out irrationally and using foul language--both out of my character. I'm hoping that an outlet will help me deal better with the stress of being hungry all the time. For those of you who have never had a hungerpain, I applaud you. For the rest of us normal people, you know how irritable you become when you ignore the growling in your belly. My stomach thinks my throat is cut.