Monday, March 31, 2008
6:30 Is For the Birds
I am not very smart. I agreed to work a shift tomorrow that starts at 6:30 AM. The facility is in downtown Denver, a good 30 minute drive from here, in good weather and good traffic. My vehicle is currently under a half inch of ice and snow. This is not going to be fun. Good night.
Friday, March 28, 2008
An Unbalanced Relationship
A song by Ingrid Michaelson ...
Are you kidding me? This dude loves her just like she is and takes her just the way she is? And she responds by buying him Rogaine so he won't go bald. Why can't she just take him the way he is, bald head and all?
I know, I know -- I'm cynical. Whatever. It just strikes me as a tad callous that she can't accept her other half being bald.
If you were falling, then I would catch you.
You need a light, I'd find a match.
Cuz I love the way you say good morning.
And you take me the way I am.
If you are chilly, here take my sweater.
Your head is aching, I'll make it better.
Cuz I love the way you call me baby.
And you take me the way I am.
I'd buy you Rogaine if you start losing all your hair.
Sew on patches to all you tear.
Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise.
And you take me the way I am.
You take me the way I am.
You take me the way I am.
Are you kidding me? This dude loves her just like she is and takes her just the way she is? And she responds by buying him Rogaine so he won't go bald. Why can't she just take him the way he is, bald head and all?
I know, I know -- I'm cynical. Whatever. It just strikes me as a tad callous that she can't accept her other half being bald.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I Am Here
And apparently, you are all there. A lot of you. I have had several conversations with family and friends in the past few days and everyone says they are reading my blog. I'm flattered and a little overwhelmed.
I mean, yes, I sent the link to all of my family and many of my friends. But I guess I didn't expect everyone to actually read it and to read it with regularity. I kind of thought my blatherings would just hang out on the internet (which is a good place for them, otherwise they clog up my brainwaves) and I wouldn't have to worry about them.
But if multitudes (okay, a dozen) of you are reading my blatherings, it puts a new perspective on them. I have to sit up straight in my chair, do something with my hair and, for pete's sake, stop picking my nose. Ack, the pressure!
Really though, I appreciate that you are all interested in what I think and what I have to say. And now I want to know what you have to say. If there are people reading, there should be people commenting! (Thank you, Dad and Uncle Tommy.)
I mean, yes, I sent the link to all of my family and many of my friends. But I guess I didn't expect everyone to actually read it and to read it with regularity. I kind of thought my blatherings would just hang out on the internet (which is a good place for them, otherwise they clog up my brainwaves) and I wouldn't have to worry about them.
But if multitudes (okay, a dozen) of you are reading my blatherings, it puts a new perspective on them. I have to sit up straight in my chair, do something with my hair and, for pete's sake, stop picking my nose. Ack, the pressure!
Really though, I appreciate that you are all interested in what I think and what I have to say. And now I want to know what you have to say. If there are people reading, there should be people commenting! (Thank you, Dad and Uncle Tommy.)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Earth Hour
Please join me in taking a stand against global warming. On Saturday March 29, 2008, turn out all your lights for one hour at 8:00 pm, your local time. You may be only one person, but it must start with one person. Watch the video below for more information. To be counted among the millions, go to http://www.earthhour.org/.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
A Few Thoughts About Our New Home
The wind blows a lot more than I expected. A windy day here is not unlike a normal day in West Texas.
The winter isn't that bad. See my previous post dedicated to just this subject.
The mountains look different every day. Something always changes, whether it's the snow on them, the clouds over them, the haze around them, the haze here. It's always something.
Plowed snow is not pretty a week after it falls. It's nasty, slushy, black muck. It sticks around forever. And Samuel gravitates to it like lint to a sweater.
People are exceedingly nice. I have gotten full-blown smiles from complete strangers in Target, at the bank, in the library, every where.
Service in stores and restaurants -- even fast food -- is amazing.
It's not as hard to find my way around as I thought it would be. I thought I'd be dragging Jennifer every where with me or calling her for directions for months.
I have found two radio stations I love. One is called Martini Radio. They play Jack Johnson, Death Cab for Cutie, Amy Winehouse and lots of other artists you don't typically hear on Top 40 only stations. The other one is a Spanish station, with none of the Norteño that I can't stomach. They play Maná, Juanes, Marco Antonio Solís and everyone else I love. Yay!
The winter isn't that bad. See my previous post dedicated to just this subject.
The mountains look different every day. Something always changes, whether it's the snow on them, the clouds over them, the haze around them, the haze here. It's always something.
Plowed snow is not pretty a week after it falls. It's nasty, slushy, black muck. It sticks around forever. And Samuel gravitates to it like lint to a sweater.
People are exceedingly nice. I have gotten full-blown smiles from complete strangers in Target, at the bank, in the library, every where.
Service in stores and restaurants -- even fast food -- is amazing.
It's not as hard to find my way around as I thought it would be. I thought I'd be dragging Jennifer every where with me or calling her for directions for months.
I have found two radio stations I love. One is called Martini Radio. They play Jack Johnson, Death Cab for Cutie, Amy Winehouse and lots of other artists you don't typically hear on Top 40 only stations. The other one is a Spanish station, with none of the Norteño that I can't stomach. They play Maná, Juanes, Marco Antonio Solís and everyone else I love. Yay!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Remembering the Moments
I will confess up front, that I am slightly inebriated at this writing. Friends and family have just left my apartment after a very nice evening of chatting, drinking, listening to music, eating. Basically, being our boring selves. But we like our boring selves and we have fun.
I am tired, but I don't want to go to bed. I want to bask in the glow of this moment here. Friends, family, food, a little vodka, good times. It's a nice moment. So I am imprinting the details into my memory so maybe they won't fade quite as quickly as they might otherwise.
I am tired, but I don't want to go to bed. I want to bask in the glow of this moment here. Friends, family, food, a little vodka, good times. It's a nice moment. So I am imprinting the details into my memory so maybe they won't fade quite as quickly as they might otherwise.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
On Motherhood
I came across the essay posted below on a message board I frequent. It's an online community for mothers and so the topic is more than fitting. I decided to post it here because it is a reminder of what I am doing, all day, every day, with every breath and every step.
I often pause to look at my children and marvel at how far they have come. I always kick myself for not remembering some mundane detail of their infancy or toddlerhood. The mundane things are the things that I must work to remember. I will always remember their very first day of school; but will I remember the overalls they wore, or the pigtails, or the scuffed up tennis shoes? I surely hope so.
There are days when I must count to 10 (or 1000) to avoid doing or saying something I know I will regret. Those are the days when I silently chant to myself, "Only 14 more years. Only 14 more years."
And then there are moments like this, when I am reminded of how little time I have, how they will one day -- all too soon -- be capable of living on their own. I remember my tiny little babies, that heavenly newborn scent, their toothless, milky smiles and I tear up and think, "Only 14 more years."
All My Babies Are Gone Now
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education -- all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did" Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language -- mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I include that here.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.
I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
I often pause to look at my children and marvel at how far they have come. I always kick myself for not remembering some mundane detail of their infancy or toddlerhood. The mundane things are the things that I must work to remember. I will always remember their very first day of school; but will I remember the overalls they wore, or the pigtails, or the scuffed up tennis shoes? I surely hope so.
There are days when I must count to 10 (or 1000) to avoid doing or saying something I know I will regret. Those are the days when I silently chant to myself, "Only 14 more years. Only 14 more years."
And then there are moments like this, when I am reminded of how little time I have, how they will one day -- all too soon -- be capable of living on their own. I remember my tiny little babies, that heavenly newborn scent, their toothless, milky smiles and I tear up and think, "Only 14 more years."
All My Babies Are Gone Now
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education -- all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did" Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language -- mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I include that here.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.
I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
Friday, March 7, 2008
I Belong!
I finally got my Colorado license plates yesterday. So now, since total strangers can't tell that I am a transplant, I actually feel like I belong here. Little do they know that I still possess a Texas driver's license with a hole punched in it and an addendum to prove that I have applied for a Colorado driver's license. I'm fooling them all! Mwahahaha!
I really don't know what that means. I guess it means that I can cross off a few other things on the To Do List. Other than that, the significance is pretty close to nothing. Whatever. I just like typing out the evil laugh.
I felt a little twinge of nostalgia while removing my Texas plates and securing the Colorado ones yesterday. That vehicle was bought in Texas and I've driven it primarily in Texas for well over 5 years. At the time it was purchased, I never considered that I'd ever move to Colorado. I was living a totally different life with no desire to change anything.
I have no idea why the simple act of changing license plates triggered all that thought. The significance of that is pretty nonexistent, too.
I really don't know what that means. I guess it means that I can cross off a few other things on the To Do List. Other than that, the significance is pretty close to nothing. Whatever. I just like typing out the evil laugh.
I felt a little twinge of nostalgia while removing my Texas plates and securing the Colorado ones yesterday. That vehicle was bought in Texas and I've driven it primarily in Texas for well over 5 years. At the time it was purchased, I never considered that I'd ever move to Colorado. I was living a totally different life with no desire to change anything.
I have no idea why the simple act of changing license plates triggered all that thought. The significance of that is pretty nonexistent, too.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
At Long Last! A New Sofa!
I finally ordered a new couch. I am so excited. It is going to be delivered tomorrow. I cannot wait! No more sitting on the floor to watch television and fold laundry!
It has taken two weeks of shopping and I mean real, hard-core shopping. I first checked out hundreds of sofas on line to get an idea of what I might want. I sat on dozens of sofas in half a dozen stores. I drove all over Denver looking for an outlet store that I finally discovered doesn't technically exist.
And then all the questions. Leather or fabric? Couch and chair or just a couch? How evil is microfiber, really? Will this particular fabric 'pill' and leave my couch looking like a sheepdog? Should I spring for the sofa sleeper? On one hand, it means an extra bed which can often come in handy. On the other hand, it makes the couch weigh a ton, is generally not fit for actual sleeping and will tack on at least $200 to the cost. How will this couch stand up to the trampling of a wild herd of buffalo? (Because that's what three children and their assorted cousins and friends amount to over 5 to 20 years.) What kind of person actually spends $2000 on a pit sectional for their living room?
I have come to the conclusion that I am the pickiest person on earth, when it comes to my couch. I want durable fabric that is still soft to the touch. I want thick, comfortable cushions that don't look too poofy. I want a tailored look that can still accomodate a few throw pillows. I want a sofa deep enough that I can snuggle all three children on while watching movies. I do not want a printed fabric. I want a solid color that can go with a variety of different colors so if I like blue throw pillows this week but green ones next week, everything will still look okay.
No wonder it took so long to make a decision. But I am pleased with the final choice. More than pleased -- overjoyed really. I am glad I took the time to make sure I am happy with this couch, because I do not want to do this again for oh, say 30 years. And I am so glad that they can deliver in two days, rather than making me wait a week or more. That might kill me.
I am currently searching the store's website for a picture of the sofa I ordered. I am not having any luck. So, since you can't see it here, you'll just have to come visit me to appreciate my new sofa in all its glory.
It has taken two weeks of shopping and I mean real, hard-core shopping. I first checked out hundreds of sofas on line to get an idea of what I might want. I sat on dozens of sofas in half a dozen stores. I drove all over Denver looking for an outlet store that I finally discovered doesn't technically exist.
And then all the questions. Leather or fabric? Couch and chair or just a couch? How evil is microfiber, really? Will this particular fabric 'pill' and leave my couch looking like a sheepdog? Should I spring for the sofa sleeper? On one hand, it means an extra bed which can often come in handy. On the other hand, it makes the couch weigh a ton, is generally not fit for actual sleeping and will tack on at least $200 to the cost. How will this couch stand up to the trampling of a wild herd of buffalo? (Because that's what three children and their assorted cousins and friends amount to over 5 to 20 years.) What kind of person actually spends $2000 on a pit sectional for their living room?
I have come to the conclusion that I am the pickiest person on earth, when it comes to my couch. I want durable fabric that is still soft to the touch. I want thick, comfortable cushions that don't look too poofy. I want a tailored look that can still accomodate a few throw pillows. I want a sofa deep enough that I can snuggle all three children on while watching movies. I do not want a printed fabric. I want a solid color that can go with a variety of different colors so if I like blue throw pillows this week but green ones next week, everything will still look okay.
No wonder it took so long to make a decision. But I am pleased with the final choice. More than pleased -- overjoyed really. I am glad I took the time to make sure I am happy with this couch, because I do not want to do this again for oh, say 30 years. And I am so glad that they can deliver in two days, rather than making me wait a week or more. That might kill me.
I am currently searching the store's website for a picture of the sofa I ordered. I am not having any luck. So, since you can't see it here, you'll just have to come visit me to appreciate my new sofa in all its glory.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
A Purely Hypothetical Situation
Imagine with me, if you will, a mother and her sweet, pre-school age son. They are walking hand in hand through a massive furniture store, looking for the perfect couch. They have been playing a spirited game of 'I Spy' and the little boy is surprisingly compliant, considering that couch shopping is quite possibly the thing he hates most in the world.
For some reason, known only to other 4-year-old children, the boy decides that dragging his rubber-toed shoes on the laminate floor is a fun thing to do. It causes strange vibrations in his toes and makes a rather silly sound, not unlike that of a distasteful bodily function.
Suddenly, the little boy decides this is not entertaining enough and says, in a voice audible across the universe,
"MOMMY, WHY ARE YOU FARTING?"
The horrified mother hisses, "That sound is your shoes, silly!"
"NO, YOU ARE FARTING!"
The little boy dissolves into hysterical giggles as the mother looks around for a couch big enough to hide behind forever. The poor, poor mother.
There is not a sink hole on this planet big enough to save one from that situation, were it to actually happen.
For some reason, known only to other 4-year-old children, the boy decides that dragging his rubber-toed shoes on the laminate floor is a fun thing to do. It causes strange vibrations in his toes and makes a rather silly sound, not unlike that of a distasteful bodily function.
Suddenly, the little boy decides this is not entertaining enough and says, in a voice audible across the universe,
"MOMMY, WHY ARE YOU FARTING?"
The horrified mother hisses, "That sound is your shoes, silly!"
"NO, YOU ARE FARTING!"
The little boy dissolves into hysterical giggles as the mother looks around for a couch big enough to hide behind forever. The poor, poor mother.
There is not a sink hole on this planet big enough to save one from that situation, were it to actually happen.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
To Do List
I have had a 3-mile long To Do List since we moved here. In the last few weeks I've shortened the list considerably but there are still a few things that must be done and must be done very soon. If they don't get done, the To Do List demon is going to continue terrorizing me and send me completely over the edge into insanity.
I can't seem to focus on the few remaining things on my list. I am not sure why this is. Maybe because they are tedious chores that no one wants to do ever, much less when they are new to a major metropolitan area and don't know where anything is. Anyway, no one else is going to do them for me and since I can't stay focused, I'm posting my To Do List here. You could gently (gently!) remind me to do some of these things if they stay on the list too long.
I do derive a bit -- okay, a lot! -- of personal satisfaction from knowing that I have accomplished a hell of a lot since arriving here, though. Let's review:
Finding a job? It's a job in and of itself. Enrolling kids in public school in a district that is the most confusing I've ever seen? Two jobs. Ensuring that the children are well-adjusted? I'll never finish that one. Familiarizing myself with major streets? I have wasted more gas on U-turns and back tracking through parking lots than I used to drive here from Texas.
Okay, now that I have succeeded in relieving my brain of these lists, it's past time to sleep. See ya.
I can't seem to focus on the few remaining things on my list. I am not sure why this is. Maybe because they are tedious chores that no one wants to do ever, much less when they are new to a major metropolitan area and don't know where anything is. Anyway, no one else is going to do them for me and since I can't stay focused, I'm posting my To Do List here. You could gently (gently!) remind me to do some of these things if they stay on the list too long.
- Register my vehicle in Colorado
- Register myself as a licensed driver in Colorado
- Pick a daycare for Samuel and enroll him
- Buy a couch
- Get a library card
- Get vehicle maintenance done
- Find a family doctor/nurse practitioner and dentist
- Finish remaining documentation for nursing license application
- Continue plugging away at the never-ending homework
- Contest false insurance claim attached to my name from last year (yeah, a lot of fun that's going to be.)
I do derive a bit -- okay, a lot! -- of personal satisfaction from knowing that I have accomplished a hell of a lot since arriving here, though. Let's review:
- Apply for nursing license
- Find a job
- Enroll children in school
- Move into apartment
- Familiarize myself with major streets
- Unpack a U-Haul's worth of stuff
- File tax return
- Find a proctor for my computer exams
- Take a computer exam, schedule another exam
- Ensure that the children are adjusting well
- Start new auto and rental insurance policies
- Grocery shop from the beginning to fill a pantry and refrigerator
- Buy kids' snow boots
Finding a job? It's a job in and of itself. Enrolling kids in public school in a district that is the most confusing I've ever seen? Two jobs. Ensuring that the children are well-adjusted? I'll never finish that one. Familiarizing myself with major streets? I have wasted more gas on U-turns and back tracking through parking lots than I used to drive here from Texas.
Okay, now that I have succeeded in relieving my brain of these lists, it's past time to sleep. See ya.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The Dreaded Colorado Winter
It turns out that winter in Colorado isn't so bad. Every time I told someone I was moving to Colorado, I got one consistent reaction: "Oh my gosh! You're going to freeze! It's so cold! Can you drive in the snow?!" And I just nodded along and said things like, "Yeah, I know. I think we can handle it. We'll get used to it." Secretly, I was wondering just how bad it would be.
I am happy to say that I have been pleasantly surprised. We've had a few small snow showers and one that was larger and included some freezing rain and sleet-type stuff. That was not fun but it didn't last long. The worst part is that driving on slushy streets quickly covered my vehicle in a thick layer of some of the nastiest dirt and grime I've ever seen. I twitched just looking at it and simply touching the door handle brought on a full-body shudder. Nasty.
You know how "they" say, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity"? Well, "they" are absolutely right. I learned this while living in West Texas because 100 degree heat isn't bad when the humidity is 10% and you can sit in the shade with a nice breeze. It's actually pleasant. What "they" don't usually say is, "It's not the cold, it's the humidity." But this is true, too. The air here is dry and cold which isn't nearly as bad as wet and cold.
The other good thing about dry air is that when the snow and ice melt, the water evaporates quickly. In wetter climes, the water would only make things worse by re-freezing into solid sheets of ice overnight. This doesn't often happen here.
So, there it is. Winter in Colorado isn't shocking or horrifying or freeze-your-bum-off cold. At least not that I've seen; nature could prank me tomorrow though, just for grins.
I am happy to say that I have been pleasantly surprised. We've had a few small snow showers and one that was larger and included some freezing rain and sleet-type stuff. That was not fun but it didn't last long. The worst part is that driving on slushy streets quickly covered my vehicle in a thick layer of some of the nastiest dirt and grime I've ever seen. I twitched just looking at it and simply touching the door handle brought on a full-body shudder. Nasty.
You know how "they" say, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity"? Well, "they" are absolutely right. I learned this while living in West Texas because 100 degree heat isn't bad when the humidity is 10% and you can sit in the shade with a nice breeze. It's actually pleasant. What "they" don't usually say is, "It's not the cold, it's the humidity." But this is true, too. The air here is dry and cold which isn't nearly as bad as wet and cold.
The other good thing about dry air is that when the snow and ice melt, the water evaporates quickly. In wetter climes, the water would only make things worse by re-freezing into solid sheets of ice overnight. This doesn't often happen here.
So, there it is. Winter in Colorado isn't shocking or horrifying or freeze-your-bum-off cold. At least not that I've seen; nature could prank me tomorrow though, just for grins.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
It's Out!!!
Miriam's first loose tooth fell out yesterday. She is unbelievably relieved to have the ordeal over with. We celebrated with great ceremony by placing the tooth carefully under her pillow last night and discussing what the Tooth Fairy might leave in its place. We also took a picture and she wrote on the calendar, "Miriams first gone tooth." (The grammar and word choice are hers entirely.)
By the way, my kids don't actually believe in the Tooth Fairy, just like they don't believe in Santa Claus. But we have discussed how sometimes it's fun to pretend and play games, even when we know the truth. This morning Miriam popped up at my bedside and said, "The Tooth Fairy didn't leave me anything!" I assured her that something must be there and went in search of the quarter. It was behind the bed.
Now, before you chastise me for leaving only a quarter, let me say that a quarter was great for me at 6 years old and so far, quarters have been great for my kids. I have no plans to explain inflation to them until all their baby teeth have fallen out.
By the way, my kids don't actually believe in the Tooth Fairy, just like they don't believe in Santa Claus. But we have discussed how sometimes it's fun to pretend and play games, even when we know the truth. This morning Miriam popped up at my bedside and said, "The Tooth Fairy didn't leave me anything!" I assured her that something must be there and went in search of the quarter. It was behind the bed.
Now, before you chastise me for leaving only a quarter, let me say that a quarter was great for me at 6 years old and so far, quarters have been great for my kids. I have no plans to explain inflation to them until all their baby teeth have fallen out.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
An Actual Dream
Over there to the right, I mentioned that I usually don't remember dreams during the night. Today though, I remembered last night's dream all too clearly.
See, I had a job interview this morning at 10:30. I was apprehensive about it -- the recruiter sent me an e-mail with no fewer than 6 attachments containing everything from a summary of the agency's mission to pediatric competency tests -- and that spilled over into my sleeping hours.
In my dream, I suddenly glanced at a clock and saw that it was noon. As I scrambled for a phone to call the agency, I racked my brain for a plausible excuse for being an hour and a half late. But I couldn't find a phone and promptly forgot why I needed a phone anyway. Next thing I knew, I looked at the clock again and it was 3:00. Again, the mad dash for a phone and an excuse. The whole night continued like this until I woke at 5:00 (really awake this time!) and grabbed my phone off the bedside table. Thankfully, I did stop just short of actually dialing the agency. Great night's sleep, huh?
In case you're wondering, the interview went well, but I'm not sure it's what I am looking for. I'm a bit nervous about working for a home health agency in a city that I am not yet familiar with. Also, there's the whole weather constraint since the roads can get very bad here. But the coordinator liked me. There are all sorts of background checks to be completed and more documentation to turn in so it will be a while before I hear anything else from them.
I had another job lead waiting in my e-mail inbox this evening and it sounds interesting, too. Tomorrow, I am going to go to a couple of medical centers in this area and drop off my resume, fill out applications, the whole shebang. Things will continue turning up and eventually something will be exactly what I need.
See, I had a job interview this morning at 10:30. I was apprehensive about it -- the recruiter sent me an e-mail with no fewer than 6 attachments containing everything from a summary of the agency's mission to pediatric competency tests -- and that spilled over into my sleeping hours.
In my dream, I suddenly glanced at a clock and saw that it was noon. As I scrambled for a phone to call the agency, I racked my brain for a plausible excuse for being an hour and a half late. But I couldn't find a phone and promptly forgot why I needed a phone anyway. Next thing I knew, I looked at the clock again and it was 3:00. Again, the mad dash for a phone and an excuse. The whole night continued like this until I woke at 5:00 (really awake this time!) and grabbed my phone off the bedside table. Thankfully, I did stop just short of actually dialing the agency. Great night's sleep, huh?
In case you're wondering, the interview went well, but I'm not sure it's what I am looking for. I'm a bit nervous about working for a home health agency in a city that I am not yet familiar with. Also, there's the whole weather constraint since the roads can get very bad here. But the coordinator liked me. There are all sorts of background checks to be completed and more documentation to turn in so it will be a while before I hear anything else from them.
I had another job lead waiting in my e-mail inbox this evening and it sounds interesting, too. Tomorrow, I am going to go to a couple of medical centers in this area and drop off my resume, fill out applications, the whole shebang. Things will continue turning up and eventually something will be exactly what I need.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Neglect
So, I haven't posted anything significant in a while. Things have been crazy hectic since before our arrival in Colorado. Between the last minute packing up, the traveling and the settling in, I've barely had a moment to collect my thoughts. What a whirlwind!
The last week of our Texas residency was spent in a flu-induced haze of fever, coughing and exhaustion. It was awful. Truly awful. The kids and I missed most of our going away stuff, which was very sad. It made the good-byes even sadder since we didn't get to say many of them.
Our friends came through in an amazing way to pack us up and see us off. I can't say enough how much I appreciated the help with getting boxes, the friends who took my kids for a bit so I could pack and the army of volunteers who loaded the U-Haul. I will not forget your helpfulness. (Although, I have wondered if maybe it was a bit of pushing to get us out of town? Totally kidding! Ha!)
And once again, I am reminded how great my family is. Dad took off three days of work, flew to Texas, drove the U-Haul to Colorado and then flew back home. On Super Bowl weekend. He's a great dad, huh? The Amazingtons, also known as Jennifer and Caleb, let us stay with them for a week. And then they made countless trips up and down the stairs to my second floor apartment to help me unload the U-Haul. My grandparents gifted me some much appreciated funds, without my asking. Three cheers for awesome family! I really could not have made this move without everyone. Come to think of it though, without family here, I wouldn't have moved here. Whatever.
We are getting settled in. Our new place is great. It's slightly larger than our last one and has great storage spaces -- a must for an organizational freak like myself. I took the kids to register for school today. We are fortunate to be in an excellent school district; I expect good things from it. I interview with a pediatric home health agency on Thursday morning. If that doesn't seem to be a good fit for me, there are a few other leads to follow. Luckily, nurses are always in demand. So, we are getting our bearings, one little baby step at a time.
I have to share a small victory. I got a bit lost looking for the school registration office today but decided to go with it and take the opportunity to get to know some other streets in the area. I am proud to say that I resisted calling for help in the form of Google maps and found my way back around all by myself! Sure, I drove in a few concentric circles around my goal, but I did it! Finding my way out of that neighborhood back to my own presented its own adventure too, but I pulled that one off fairly smoothly.
Next step: trade out my Texas tags for Colorado tags so that when I cut someone off in traffic (accidentally!), they don't think it's because I'm from out of town and don't know my way around.
The last week of our Texas residency was spent in a flu-induced haze of fever, coughing and exhaustion. It was awful. Truly awful. The kids and I missed most of our going away stuff, which was very sad. It made the good-byes even sadder since we didn't get to say many of them.
Our friends came through in an amazing way to pack us up and see us off. I can't say enough how much I appreciated the help with getting boxes, the friends who took my kids for a bit so I could pack and the army of volunteers who loaded the U-Haul. I will not forget your helpfulness. (Although, I have wondered if maybe it was a bit of pushing to get us out of town? Totally kidding! Ha!)
And once again, I am reminded how great my family is. Dad took off three days of work, flew to Texas, drove the U-Haul to Colorado and then flew back home. On Super Bowl weekend. He's a great dad, huh? The Amazingtons, also known as Jennifer and Caleb, let us stay with them for a week. And then they made countless trips up and down the stairs to my second floor apartment to help me unload the U-Haul. My grandparents gifted me some much appreciated funds, without my asking. Three cheers for awesome family! I really could not have made this move without everyone. Come to think of it though, without family here, I wouldn't have moved here. Whatever.
We are getting settled in. Our new place is great. It's slightly larger than our last one and has great storage spaces -- a must for an organizational freak like myself. I took the kids to register for school today. We are fortunate to be in an excellent school district; I expect good things from it. I interview with a pediatric home health agency on Thursday morning. If that doesn't seem to be a good fit for me, there are a few other leads to follow. Luckily, nurses are always in demand. So, we are getting our bearings, one little baby step at a time.
I have to share a small victory. I got a bit lost looking for the school registration office today but decided to go with it and take the opportunity to get to know some other streets in the area. I am proud to say that I resisted calling for help in the form of Google maps and found my way back around all by myself! Sure, I drove in a few concentric circles around my goal, but I did it! Finding my way out of that neighborhood back to my own presented its own adventure too, but I pulled that one off fairly smoothly.
Next step: trade out my Texas tags for Colorado tags so that when I cut someone off in traffic (accidentally!), they don't think it's because I'm from out of town and don't know my way around.
Monday, February 4, 2008
A Huge Thank You!
I was too tired last night to remember all the people who came over to help me move on Saturday afternoon and evening. I expected a few people, but you all really out-did yourselves. We packed the truck in about 2 hours. I never expected it to get done that quickly. So, thank you to Travis, Michael, David W., Kelly, Luke, Maria, Julie, Niki, Cyndee, Harry and most especially to my dad! I am so grateful to you for all your help.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Personalities and Loose Teeth
You can tell a lot about a child by the way they deal with their loose teeth. I have first- and second-hand experience with this. First, with myself and now with my own children.
The child who wiggles her tooth hesitantly with one finger and clamps her mouth shut at the first sign of anyone seeking to check on its progress tends to be a reserved, timid child. She knows the tooth will eventually fall out but there is no rush. After all, this is a big change and change is usually a very bad thing. It's perfectly okay to have an adult tooth sit right behind the baby tooth for weeks. This is the best way to adjust to this change.
The child who yanks and twists energetically at a loose tooth is the rambunctious, energetic, attention-seeking type. He takes every opportunity to open his mouth and show off his prize. The sooner that baby tooth is out, the sooner the Tooth Fairy brings his money, right? This child rarely, if ever, leaves a tooth hanging on by a thread because he will jerk it out first.
I got to thinking about this last week because Miriam has her first loose tooth. The adult tooth began making its appearance before Christmas. It's now almost completely in and looks very odd, sitting behind the baby tooth. She's like the human version of a 6-year-old shark. She is terrified that the thing is going to fall out while she's asleep, or worse, at school. Oh, the horror! She refuses to bite food with the teeth in the middle of her mouth; everything is eaten from the side of her mouth. She brushes that tooth and the ones around it very gingerly, if at all.
Solomon, on the other hand, has lost about 7 teeth in the last two years. He even once pulled out 3 teeth in the span of about 10 days. The child is a maniac when it comes to loosing teeth. He loves it. He pestered me constantly, long before his sixth birthday until he finally had his first loose tooth. "Mom, when am I going to lose a tooth?" "Mom, this tooth is a tiny bit loose!" "Hey, did that tooth just move?" He's constantly checking the remaining baby teeth for any possibility of instability.
It remains to be seen how Samuel will deal with loose teeth. But from watching the way he handles most other things in his day to day life, I think he'll fall some where between the furious yanker and the tentative wiggler. He will be alternately excited and disgusted by it. He may eventually screw up his courage and yank one out quickly. He'll regret it when it bleeds a bit and remember it for the rest of his life as a mortal mistake.
In case you're wondering, I was the timid type. I hated the idea of loosing teeth. There was that oddly disgusting, fascinating sensation of a part of my body moving. On its own. Gross. There was the possibility that there would be blood when it finally came out. And of course, there was the chance that it would fall out while I was asleep and then I would swallow it. Grosser still.
I am still unnerved by most things having to do with teeth. I have this recurring nightmare in which my teeth begin disentigrating and falling out one after the other, until it is all I can do to spit out bits of enamel and dentin. Disgusting. I can't help but think that's a holdover from being 8 years old and wiggling a tooth with my tongue and suddenly it just fell out of the socket on its own and I had to spit it out.
The child who wiggles her tooth hesitantly with one finger and clamps her mouth shut at the first sign of anyone seeking to check on its progress tends to be a reserved, timid child. She knows the tooth will eventually fall out but there is no rush. After all, this is a big change and change is usually a very bad thing. It's perfectly okay to have an adult tooth sit right behind the baby tooth for weeks. This is the best way to adjust to this change.
The child who yanks and twists energetically at a loose tooth is the rambunctious, energetic, attention-seeking type. He takes every opportunity to open his mouth and show off his prize. The sooner that baby tooth is out, the sooner the Tooth Fairy brings his money, right? This child rarely, if ever, leaves a tooth hanging on by a thread because he will jerk it out first.
I got to thinking about this last week because Miriam has her first loose tooth. The adult tooth began making its appearance before Christmas. It's now almost completely in and looks very odd, sitting behind the baby tooth. She's like the human version of a 6-year-old shark. She is terrified that the thing is going to fall out while she's asleep, or worse, at school. Oh, the horror! She refuses to bite food with the teeth in the middle of her mouth; everything is eaten from the side of her mouth. She brushes that tooth and the ones around it very gingerly, if at all.
Solomon, on the other hand, has lost about 7 teeth in the last two years. He even once pulled out 3 teeth in the span of about 10 days. The child is a maniac when it comes to loosing teeth. He loves it. He pestered me constantly, long before his sixth birthday until he finally had his first loose tooth. "Mom, when am I going to lose a tooth?" "Mom, this tooth is a tiny bit loose!" "Hey, did that tooth just move?" He's constantly checking the remaining baby teeth for any possibility of instability.
It remains to be seen how Samuel will deal with loose teeth. But from watching the way he handles most other things in his day to day life, I think he'll fall some where between the furious yanker and the tentative wiggler. He will be alternately excited and disgusted by it. He may eventually screw up his courage and yank one out quickly. He'll regret it when it bleeds a bit and remember it for the rest of his life as a mortal mistake.
In case you're wondering, I was the timid type. I hated the idea of loosing teeth. There was that oddly disgusting, fascinating sensation of a part of my body moving. On its own. Gross. There was the possibility that there would be blood when it finally came out. And of course, there was the chance that it would fall out while I was asleep and then I would swallow it. Grosser still.
I am still unnerved by most things having to do with teeth. I have this recurring nightmare in which my teeth begin disentigrating and falling out one after the other, until it is all I can do to spit out bits of enamel and dentin. Disgusting. I can't help but think that's a holdover from being 8 years old and wiggling a tooth with my tongue and suddenly it just fell out of the socket on its own and I had to spit it out.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Frick on a stick
I spoke too soon. Or maybe I didn't knock on wood or something. I am sick. Well and truly sick. There is so much stuff to do around here and I do not have the energy to do it. And I got a flu shot. This is not fair.
Besides the bodyache, headache, coughing and complete lack of energy, the worst symptom is being hungry and having no appetite whatsoever. I want to eat but nothing sounds good. Okay, I am going to pout on the couch.
Besides the bodyache, headache, coughing and complete lack of energy, the worst symptom is being hungry and having no appetite whatsoever. I want to eat but nothing sounds good. Okay, I am going to pout on the couch.
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