Finding Humor in our Conception Struggles

Dear Child of Mine,
I have to be honest with you. While the issue of infertility is very painful, and our desire to have you is very real, sometimes I switch things up and lighten the mood. I’m sure I throw people off by the things I am able to joke about. But I figure laughter really is good for the heart, and I shouldn’t take myself (or my problems) too seriously. 
Our friends, Randy and Sheryl, have a quilt on their couch that was made for them years ago (four kids ago) by a lady who described it as a “fertility quilt.” (Obviously the quilt worked for them!) This concept has always struck me as funny, but every once and a while when we’re visiting together, I really get the giggles about this quilt. When Sheryl asked me if I’d like a blanket, I looked at Kevin and said, “BRING ON THE FERTILITY QUILT!” Yes, we were all laughing!
Then, the other night I gathered in the church library with 5 other church leaders, including your dad, in a meeting to discuss plans for the Christmas Eve services and holiday decorating strategies. I arrived at the meeting 10 minutes late because I had to speed walk (literally) from my piano studio after 4 hours of lessons, and then I would be heading straight from this meeting to my Wednesday night vespers gathering. All good things, but bam, bam, bam, one right after the other.
By the end of the meeting I was getting a little slap happy. (This happens to your mother when she’s low on energy, sleep, and/or patience. I figure it’s better alternative grumpiness.) After we closed in prayer (as every good church meeting does), I happened to catch a glance of this book on the shelf behind me:

Without thinking, I blurted out for the whole group to hear –

“This book is titled Making Children Mind Without Losing Yours, but I TOTALLY thought it said Making Children Without Losing Your Mind.”

Everyone erupted in laughter, with expressions of slight shock and a teeny bit of embarrassment thrown in. Had the title of the book really been Making Children Without Losing Your Mind it would have been incredibly appropriate for your dad and I. Oh the satire was just too rich!

I share this story so that you know I’m not always uptight. I’m not always super spiritual. I’m not always thinking critically. Sometimes I’m just plain ridiculous.

I hope you’ll appreciate my oddities as much as your dad does (most of the time.)

Love,
Your Mama

Subscribe.

The One with the Laundry Faux Pas

I have a confession to make–I don’t do laundry “right.” I know all the rules. My mom taught me well. But somewhere along the road (actually, I know exactly “where” it happened) I threw it out the window. (The window, the second story window. High, low. Low, high. Threw it out the window.)
I was doing laundry alongside my mother from the time I could toddle. Year after year, I separated my whites from my colors. (Although I was forever confusing which side of the hamper was which.) I knew heavy fabrics like jeans and towels should be separate from permanent press items. 
But then I went off to college. And all of my training went *splat.* Now, before you go assuming I was going through some kind of rebellious stage, let me assure you I was not. No, friends, this was all about the money. Yep, the money. You see, doing laundry in a coin operated laundry room is REALLY EXPENSIVE (especially when you’re 19), and saving up all of those quarters was a pain (even though my mom did it for me for four years straight. thanks, mom!
[side note: if you do need to save quarters for any reason and you happen to have old film canisters laying around the house *ahem,* they hold exactly seven dollars in a very convenient fashion. You’re welcome.]
Even though the quarters weren’t really mine, I just couldn’t bear to put quarter after quarter into those little slots in order to do multiple loads of laundry the “right” way. AND besides the money, I just didn’t have enough clothes to make properly-separated loads of laundry without running out of every last item of clothing in order to make a full load. 
And so (hold on to your hats, people), I combined EVERYTHING INTO ONE BIG LOAD. Yep, that’s right. OH, THE HORROR!! And load after load, year after year, everything’s turned out all right. I’ve never had white-turned-pink-items-because-of-that-darn-red-sock. I keep those likely-to-bleed-fabrics separate a time or two and have no problems. 
So here I am, 8 years later, and still having the audacity to throw everything into one load. 

Yes, it’s awesome that my husband and I only make 1 (or maybe 2) loads of laundry of week. But you know what, I actually enjoy laundry. And if I didn’t have to pay the water and electric bills and if we had enough laundry to fill up more than two baskets (future-me will probably want to punch present-day-me in the face right now), then I totally would do all of those extra loads. 
But for now, I’m just enjoying dropped jaws of classically (laundry) trained women everywhere. 


The One with Florida in {10}

My husband and I just got back from the most blessed week of vacation. We still have yet to vacation to a “far off” land, just the two of us, since our honeymoon, but this was awesome-awesome. Kevin’s grandparents invited us to spend a week with them. They wanted to spend some time with us and basically spoil us to death. They succeeded–and we had a great time. 

IMG_0036

This trip–the driving to and fro, the sitting around and doing nothing, the eating out all the time, the sunning ourselves–took up all of my time, and I subsequently found myself “unplugged” from the internet. It was simultaneously hard to stay away and deliciously relaxing to not feel that tug of responsibility. 
Here are Ten Memorable Tidbits from our week-long vacay:
1. We got incredible gas mileage on the first leg of the trip, hills and all. 42 miles per gallon totally excites me. You go, little ’98 manual Civic. 
2. That trusty car of ours surpassed it’s 200,000 miles mark on the odometer–a milestone we eagerly anticipated with this most thrilling footage. (It’s sideways for some sad reason. bummer.)
3. We spoiled ourselves (or rather, the grandparents’ gift of spending money enabled us) with multiple Starbucks coffee runs. This was an exciting treat, given that we haven’t had a Starbucks to visit since we moved to our tiny town. Sorry, friends, Tim Horton’s just does’t cut it for us. 

4. A switch finally flipped in my brain and I magically understood how to successfully order my own cup of coffee at Starbucks. Kevin has been teaching and teaching all these years. He’s proud. (In case you’re interested, my favorite was the grande iced coffee with non-fat milk and caramel. Heavenly.)
5. In all 40+ hours of car-time we had, I didn’t accomplish half of the things in my travel bag. I brought 5 books, multiple crochet patterns, and some games, but occupied almost all of my time with my audio book. Man, oh man, was that the best invention ever. I finished The Friday Night Knitting Clubwithin 5 minutes of pulling in our driveway. Perfect. 
(I totally recommend reading (or listening) to that book. Fascinating character(s) development. Plus, the narrator is great. However, there are numerous swear words dropped. So be forewarned.) 
6. Speaking of travel time, I became a little driving machine on this trip. Normally I’m all of turning the keys over to Kevin and sitting in the passenger seat for the majority of any trip. But with my audio in my ear, I just wanted to keep driving. I realized it was much more enjoyable than anxiously sitting in the passenger’s seat, alternating between reading, napping, snacking, talking, and complaining about the heat (in our ac-free car). Kevin loves just reading and reading and reading for hours, so it’s a perfect match. Win.

IMG_0263
7. One of my first (and favorite) shopping trips in Florida always has to be Goodwill. The stores are almost always more impressive than any up north, and the selection is completely unique. My husband surprised me by being willing to tag along to BOTH (yes I both–as in two trips) to Goodwill. He helped me decide on a beautiful selection of summer tops plus easy-to-wear/everyday dresses and skirts. I plan on wearing a lot more dresses this summer. yay! 
I won’t tell you how many items I got for $50 because it’ll just make you jealous. ;) 
8. Old Navy flip flops=2 pairs for $5.00. Enough said. 
9. On Wednesday, Kevin and I spent the most glorious day together at the beach. It was surrounded by a couple successfully shopping trips, a Starbucks stop, and dinner at Texas Roadhouse, but our hours in the sun were perfect. It took me far too long to finish the last few chapters of Mockingjay, and we had fun snacking and alternating between dips in the cool water and sunning our pasty skin on our beach towels
10. The best attraction we visited was the Florida Aquarium in Tampa. Oh. My. Word. That was an incredible afternoon for all four of us. The beautifully colored tropical fish, the penguin show, petting the sting rays, the otter show, and the frightening sharks or crocodiles kept things interesting.

IMG_0042

IMG_0037

Oh! And did I mention that one of the fish in the “Aquarimania” portion of the place JUMPED OUT of the tank onto the floor right next to me. Oh my gosh, totally freaky experience. But the poor little guy! Luckily a worker was nearby to save him. (There was a crack at the top portion of the tank. YIPES!)

IMG_0041
check out these cute little mini seahorses
(there’s a tiny guy by my fingertip)

IMG_0043

IMG_0076



Aren’t those incredible aquarium pictures?! Our trip was amazing, blessed, and relaxing. We ate too much, tanned too much, and bought too many DQ Blizzards. We spent quality time with the grandparents and had some great husband-wife conversations on our long drive. Yep, it was a great vacation.




linked up with Many Little Blessings “Top Ten Tuesday”

The One with the Blood Drive Trauma

 

Tuesday afternoon I took a walk around the block to the local Red Cross Blood Drive. I have been a fairly regular donor for the past 9 years–ever since that fateful day in 11th grade when the Blood Drive came to my high school. That first experience was memorable–but for all the wrong reasons. Not only did it take at least a half hour to fill the bag, but I was queasy and lightheaded and had half the workers hovering over me to make sure I was doing ok. Heck, I was even breathing into a paper bag. (Not the coolest thing to do as a high school junior, mind you.
Despite my bad experience, I wasn’t going to give up. My mom is a marathon-type donor. She is faithful and has earned who know how many gallon pins as a thank you for her sacrifices over the years. I have gone again an again (probably 2 or 3 times a year since then) and faced my fear, armed with knowledge and experience. I know exactly which vein they should use–old faithful. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I need to be laid back the whole time or things will go south. Preventing the problem I am.

Tuesday was the first time I’ve been brave enough to give blood by myself. Normally I go with my mom or in college, I took a group of friends, or in November I got my husband to come with me for the first time. So I signed myself in, got registered in a new region as a first time donor again (the third time I’ve been a “first time donor”), and got settled on the table. 
My technician was very nice and stood by my side the whole time chatting away. It was wonderful. I was feeling good as she said, “You’re almost done!” I was thrilled–I was not going to complicate things. (I have a history of getting I’m-going-to-faint symptoms with blood drives or even IVs, but I never actually faint.) Then, almost immediately, her expression changed. “Why did it stop?!” she asked. “It’s so close to being finished too and the pressure just dropped. Squeeze the ball again for me.” 
I started squeezing, and instantly the feeling overtook me. “I’m feeling very lightheaded,” I told her. She shouted, “I need a cold compress over here!” My stomach was queasy, my skin was clammy, I was breaking out in a sweat, I was having trouble breathing, my vision was blacking out, and then–the newest and scariest experience–my hearing started to go. 
“I can’t really hear anything,” I announced, as other technicians were flooding to my side, reclining my bed even more. “The hearing’s always the last to go,” one lady said, as she was trying to get me to keep my eyes open and move my legs. “Don’t tell her that,” said another tech guy. (“Oh great,” I was thinking. I still don’t know exactly what she meant by that, but I don’t think I need to find out.) 
This whole experience filled up maybe 2 or 3 minutes time, but it felt like an eternity and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I wanted to throw up, I wanted the pain and scary symptoms to stop. My body had decided it was done allowing all of that wonderful blood to leave it’s veins, and it put an end to things. Thankfully (SO thankfully), they were able to finish filling the full pint.
And just like that, I was fine. The nice technician who was kindly fanning me with his manila folder was now asking me if I could use something to drink. My color came back, I was smiling again, and I downed that cranberry juice. Pretty soon I was sitting up and walking to the table to eat a small sandwich.
My lightheaded and queasy symptoms lasted long into the evening. I felt weak and sick for the rest of the night–highly unusual for me. But I don’t regret it. The Red Cross employees were wonderful, and I know I’ll give blood again. I just hope I don’t have to go through all that trauma. 
Hopefully my story didn’t scare you away, but are you a blood donor?  

The One with the Cat Chaos

If you saw my Facebook page last week you may have noticed we adopted a cat. After the heartbreaking process of leaving our first kitties–Butterscotch and Maisy–back in Michigan because our landlord wouldn’t allow pets, we were starting to feel lonely. We really, really loved those stupid cats–despite their vomit and poo and meowing and climbing all over our heads in the morning. 
the hopeful beginning
We missed having a cat around–laying on our bed, enjoying a good tummy rub, “talking” with us occasionally. A cat brings us company, something to take care of, to enjoy playing with. So after 6 months of renting, we decided to ask permission to have a cat in the house. Shockingly…he said yes. 
So we purchased all the supplies–cage, food, litter, litter box, scooper. And we looked around in the local shelters for a fixed, declawed cat who need a home. We found one! But she was gone by the time we were able to adopt her. We found a second one! But he was adopted that morning. We found a third! And we went to pick him up. 
His name was Sammy. He was dropped off at the shelter a few months ago and was very very shy, but generally friendly. Kevin snuggled with him for a while and we decided to take him home with us.

Sammy ran and hid from us the instant he arrived in his new home. We were used to timid cats–Butterscotch didn’t come out from under the couch for 2 whole weeks. We gave Sammy his space, petting him a few times a day, but never forcing anything. He had thoroughly enjoyed our petting encounters, but would just as quickly run away from us at our next visit. Weird. 
the saga continues
On the second day home, I noticed the crusties around his eye had started leaking. He had a little puddle of fluid under his face. It was clear, so we weren’t too concerned; maybe it was just a cold. (He sounded congested too.) 
I was gone for the weekend and when I returned his eyes had made an extreme turn for the worse. The fluid was practically streaming down his face, his eyes were nearly swollen shut, the mucous was yellow-ish, his nose was running. GREAT. Now we had to take our cat to the vet–not something we like to do. (We like low maintenance, low cost pets.)
We made a vet appointment, but soon realized we had been deceived by the shelter–they had told us the vaccine/healthcare paperwork would be attached to our documents, but they weren’t. They had acted like Sammy had been up to date on every medication, treatment, and exam. But he wasn’t. There was no proof for anything. 
As much as it pained us, we decided we needed to try to return him to the shelter. I spent much of the morning in tears, sobbing really–thinking about the poor cat being sick and in pain, thinking about how we had been lied to and ended up with the wrong cat (for us), thinking about the awfulness of sending that cat back to a shelter of 75 cats. It was all heartbreaking to me. 
the tramatic end
At 3pm it was time to load the cat up for the trip. He refused to be put in the cage. He must have remembered how the experience ended up for him last time. I waited for Kevin to get home. Kevin forced the cat into the cage and the subsequent events were very, very disconcerting. The cat thrashed around in the cage and when I leaned down to try to soothe him, he barred his teeth in the most frightening way, and hissed like I’ve never heard a cat hiss. I lost it. I fell into a mess of tears–full of fear, worry, sadness, just plain stupid emotions. 
Kevin quickly decided I needed to stay home from this trip. I was thankful. My knight in shining armor. He called me on the ride home and said things went smoothly. They had accepted him back and promised a refund. Sammy seemed comfortable and glad to be “home.” The workers were taking him to his private room where he could get treatment and feel better soon. 
And now I feel better. We just have to wait for the right cat. Right? 

The One with the Ultimate Popping Corn

During the week of Christmas we were excited to host Kevin’s mom, dad, brother, and grandparents for a few days. It was a tight squeeze at times in our little house, but we all had a lovely time together. We perused downtown boutiques, checking out all the historic spots along the way, celebrated together in a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day worship service, enjoyed a party with lots of church friends, ate a fantastic pot roast dinner at Randy & Sheryl’s and watched Courageous with them, toured the local schoolhouse-turned-Bed-and-Breakfast and as well as the college campus where Kevin takes seminary classes, and played a rousing game of Apples to Apples. 
In the midst of all our goings and comings, we found time to sit and relax. Some read, some napped, some computer-gamed, some crocheted. And two or three times we watched a movie or tv show together, including Love Comes Softly (one of the movies mom received for Christmas), Mrs. Miracle (your typical Hallmark movie), and an episode of Monk and MacGyver. Yeah, we’re that awesome. 
During the showing of Love Comes Softly (which is way more intense to watch now that I’m married and understand these things…sheesh, Janette Oke), I decided to start a batch of popcorn. Now, if you know me, you know I love popcorn. And in the past couple years I’ve really fallen head over heels for the homemade variety. You know–kernels, oil, pot, salt, done. A few times a week (not even kidding) I heat up our heavy-bottomed pot and whip up a batch of my favorite snack. No problem. I don’t have to shake the pot or watch it like a hawk. This stock pot does popcorn right, all by itself. 
So I started the popcorn and left the room to watch the movie with the family. 
After the popcorn was popping away, Dad asked me if I needed to check on it. I said, “No” knowing my awesome pot would be just fine. I did think it sounded a little louder than usual, but we just turned up the tv and ignored it. 
When the popping began to die down, I went out to take it off the heat. What I saw made me simultaneously want to laugh and cry. There was popcorn popping and flying ALL OVER my kitchen. I had forgotten the lid to the pot and those beautifully popped kernels (along with all the oil!) was EVERYWHERE. I started cracking up laughing and the family quickly rushed to the scene, pulling out cameras and ipods to capture the moment. It was pretty memorable. 
IMG_7491
For the next 20 minutes, I was sweeping up popcorn, picking it out of baskets and shelves, having Kevin move the stove so I could get the hidden kernels, and scrubbing up grease on my hands and knees. I made another batch of popcorn and settled in for the end of the movie. All 5 minutes of it. :) 
IMG_7493
IMG_7494
I’m hoping I’m not alone in kitchen mishaps. Anyone else? (This same weekend I also burned chex mix, forgot the timer on the rolls, and let potatoes boil over.)
You know you don’t want to miss a minute of this craziness. Subscribe. (or by Email)

The One with the Risky Fashion

Christmas Sweaters. A controversial topic. 

Depending on your age, your environment, and most importantly your fashion sense, you may or may not agree with what I’m about to say. Some of you may be slightly offended. At first. But then, in the same vein as Stacy and Clinton on What Not to Wear, I hope you will find a new exciting actually beautiful sense of holiday style.

But please, friends, for the LOVE OF FASHION don’t wear sweaters or vests or turtlenecks or blouses with any of the follow decor–

Reindeer.
Snowmen.
Santa Clause.
Holiday ornaments.
Christmas trees.
Wreaths.
Blinking lights.

really any blatantly Christmas pictures/objects/designs whatsoever.  (sorry, Mom.)

Like these…

source
source
source
Don’t be that nice lady in Salvation Army who saw the sweater I was selecting for my UGLY Christmas Sweater Party and sweetly commented, “How Pretty!” oh honey.  It was all I could do to keep my composure. And I want to save YOU, my friends, from the embarrassment of ever being seen wearing a sweater/turtleneck/blouse/vest that someone somewhere has chosen to win the UGLY sweater competition.  
—–
Be subtle about your holiday fashion. I believe it can be totally cool to be festive and seasonally appropriate in the way we dress. Choosing a beautiful red blouse, or maybe the quintessential little black dress with a gorgeous necklace would say more than any Reindeer or embroidered Christmas Tree ever could. 
I love these outfits. 
source
source
(I would wear this dress in a heartbeat!)
source

source

source

So think outside the box this Christmas. There is no need for blinking lights necklaces or earrings. Unless you’re trying to win that Ugly Sweater Competition and wanted some “stylish” accessories. Go through your closet and pull out all those unfashionable festive items and donate them to your youth group. or Goodwill. Ugly Sweaters are a popular item now for Christmas parties. Donate away. :) Or wear one yourself–but only if you’re TRYING to be the champion of Ugly Sweaters. 
Do you admit that you sport “ugly” Christmas fashion? Are you willing to change? For the good of all mankind? ;) 

Oh, and ps–I love you all. Even if you do wear an ugly sweaters.  

Subscribe.

The One with the Epic Trip to My Parents’

This year was one of the most relaxed Thanksgivings of all time. At least the Thanksgiving day was relaxing. We started our holiday at 7am Wednesday morning. With the car loaded with pies and bags of who knows what, we hit the road. I drove the first 4 hours while Kevin read his library book on his iPad (yay, Kindle app) which was due back that day. Good thing he can read a million words a minute
I occupied my time with a book-on-mp3–Pride and Prejudice. It was entertaining to laugh out loud and have Kevin not have any clue what I was busting up about. We drove past my parents’ exit from the freeway as we were making the drive all the way to Michigan. At 11:20 (yes, I’m precise) we pulled off at a Pizza Hut, because my husband has a thing for their lunch buffets. We almost died when a telephone pole jumped out in front of me in the middle of the parking lot. Seriously. It would have done irreparable damage. (I blame Kevin for distracting me with the Chinese restaurant.) 
We ate our delicious lunch and Kevin took over driving. (He definitely didn’t want me behind the wheel anymore.) At this point, I became a Chatty Cathy and talked Kevin’s ear off. Poor guy. Just before our exit in Michigan, a semi truck nearly killed us when he pulled into our lane without seeing us. sheesh. Thanks to my husband’s reflexes and the lack of cars behind us, we survived.

From the freeway, we headed to our former hometown’s downtown to meet Josh & Amanda and take their engagement pictures. What a blast! (I already talked on and on about this experience here.)

After the photo session, Kevin and I began receiving text after text from our former youth group students who were eagerly awaiting our arrival in the mall food court. We thought it’d be the perfect place to meet up and hang out for a couple hours without getting in trouble or having to spend money. It worked! Four of the girls almost tackled us to the ground and just about blew our eardrums out with their shrieking. aww. :)

90

91

98

101

103

We had a fantastic time with those teens, but our time together quickly ended as we were meeting Kevin’s family for dinner. We were so thankful the three of them were willing to make the long-ish drive to the restaurant to spend a little bit of time together for the Thanksgiving holiday. As per usual, we had a wonderful time together. (I even brought a pie for dessert. :D)

We could have stayed and talked for a few more hours, but we needed to get back on the road. We still had a three hour drive ahead of us. *whew* Preparing ourselves for the remaining 3 hour leg of our 18 hour trip to my parents’ home. Longest. Trip. Ever. But worth it.

AT 11:30pm we rolled into my parents’ driveway after having almost died a third time. An 8 point-ish buck ran out in front of our car and stood dead still in our lane as we were driving 65 mph. Kevin slammed on the brakes and I nearly screamed. When I looked up, though, I couldn’t see what he was stopping for. The dear was nearly invisible. SO THANKFUL Kevin saw the glint in that buck’s eye. *whew*.

The remainder of our holiday was much less eventful, filled with good food, lazy mornings, and fun conversation (oh yeah, a few technology lessons for the parentals. You’ll get it eventually, mom :D)

Oh, and check out the beautiful table that my mom set for the big meal–she even folded the napkins all fancy style with the tips she learned from her napkin folding class on their cruise. Yep, she took a napkin folding class. Pretty cool, right? Those fancy-pants napkins really do make the table look a million times more awesome.

81  

The One with the Swollen Speech

You may remember my trip home (to my parents’ house that is) which I took on Monday in an effort to see my little sis’ one last time before she moves out West. It was a last minute plan–as in, I decided at 8am that I would leave by 10am–and I got to surprise Ash. Fun!
But all that was in addition to my pre-planned trip home today–just 4 days after my last minute trip. So yeah, a lot of driving. Luckily my trip is an easy one, and I made fantastic time (despite 8am rush hour traffic.) I did have a deadline to make this morning–an 11am eye doctor appointment. I pulled in the driveway of the office at 10:50am. Perfect! Even with leaving 15 minutes later than I planned and making a 10 minute stop for gas and bathroom break, I was early slash on time. 
That visit took forever. In this room for this exam. Move to that room for that exam. Back and forth, back and forth. Dilate your eyes. Examine again. Fit contacts. Examine again. Try on every single pair of frames in the place. multiple times. 
Luckily, Mom & Grams showed up and helped me decide on new glasses. I’m pretty excited about my choice. Hopefully I love them as much as I think I will. It’s the first time in 6 years I’ve had new frames. It was necessary. And yes, I was scolded for wearing my contacts for 2 months when they’re 2 week lenses. (I actually wear them for longer than that I’m sure. I clean them well. I take them out at night. I’m cheap. What can I say?)  
After this long process, the three generations of women headed to Steak & Shake for lunch. I had to wear my sunglasses inside because holy dilated pupils, Batman!

As soon as I finished lunch, I was off to the dentist. Yep. The dentist AND the optometrist in the SAME DAY. I’m hardcore. (Can you blame me–my insurance runs out in November! I’m cashing in!) I had 3 more cavities to fill. Awesome. I was not looking forward to this appointment based on my most recent filling experience.
Thankfully this appointment went much smoother. Mostly because I was able to effectively communicate with the dentist and assistant what was painful–the darn air blowing into the nerves of my open tooth. (That may be dramatic, but that’s what it felt like–stinging like crazy.) The procedure when quickly and easily and I’m not in any pain tonight. Yay! I even ate steak for dinner. Rock on! 
The only problem? Oh my gosh was I ever numb! There was one cavity on the bottom left and 2 on the bottom right–so they had to use Novacaine on my entire bottom jaw. I quickly found out how many nerves are connected to that portion of my face, tongue included. It was almost impossible to talk in a coherant manner. I felt like my tongue was swollen to the size of a small grapefruit. And I struggle with a tongue thrust (aka lisp) to begin with! NOT COOL, PEOPLE! Especially when I had to go interact with the public (seeing an old friend and picking Grandma up from her hair appt. I was lucky to not need a bib to catch all the drool that my lip was unable to contain.) 
My husband seriously thought I was putting on a bit of a show with my speech. Nope. It was for rizzle. 
And I’m so glad it’s over. 
 ===

The One with Miss Type A

It’s amazing to me how quickly people have me pegged. No matter where I go my personality comes out almost instantly, despite my efforts to start fresh. I think I’m doing a great job of being Miss Go-With-The-Flow, but somehow everyone deduces the truth–I’m a bit of spaz. I try to be Miss HappyGoLuckyLifeofTheParty, but after an hour or five, my cover is blown. They figure me out. 
High School.
College. 
Family. 
Friends. 
New Town # 1, 2 or 3. 
I simply can’t avoid the real me.
Truth is, I’m an early-to-bed-early-to-rise kind of girl. I’ve been that way since high school. Just ask my dad–after youth group events, I was the one pulling him out the door so I could “get to bed.” Yes, I was not the coolest 16 year old.

Not much has changed in the last decade. I’m always aware of the clock as my bedtime draws near. I just know my body, and I know I need X amount of sleep. So what if I’m a party pooper? If I missed out on late night goofing off in the dorms or fun outings to Denny’s? At least I wake up happy and well-rested in the morning. Friends from college know this about me well. And they know not to expect it to change any time soon, even if I don’t have class at 7:25am. 

Truth is, I’m a homebody. Always have been. Always will be. I’m not ashamed to admit this. Again, it doesn’t make me the “cool kid,” but if given the choice between a fun party and a quiet evening at home, I would always choose the latter. I love people. I’m at ease in groups of any size. But at the end of the day, I’m energized by down time
Truth is, the lists of confessions could go on and on. But it’s not really necessary. Everyone’s got me figured out already.

—-

All that is true. But.

Despite what I’m not, I also happen to have a love for good times with good friends. Games. Food. Conversation. Laughter. I love it all. So don’t be afraid to invite me to a party. I will have a good time, and I’m make sure everyone else does too. I just might have to say goodnight a little earlier than others. After all, I couldn’t work with teens if I didn’t love a good time and if I didn’t learn how to go-with-the-flow. You can teach an old fish new tricks. :)

STP61492_2
GoodbyeParty_9
Do people know the REAL you?