I took the day off

It was justifiably the weekend from hell. 

I promise I'm not looking for your pity, I'm not.  However, three tests in 36 hours is so mentally exhausting I can't even begin to describe how empty it makes you feel...there is a lack of affect in life when you spend that much time poring over material.  And along with the perfectionism aforementioned, I seem to have developed a healthy dose of SEVERE test anxiety.  36 hours of anxiety is not fun.  And to top it all off, I really didn't perform very well.  Somewhere between all those hours of studying and taking the exams, the information decided to put itself into a mental blender.  I still have a B in both classes.  Life will go on.



My life goes on.  Every single day of it.
And this particular Sunday, I took the day off.  Well, the majority of the day.  I did have to get up at 7:30 in the morning to complete my CPR certification for nursing clinicals...but that was unavoidable, and now I know how to save your life, so it's a positive.
But the rest of the day, it was gloriously mine.


I returned from my practice of compressions and breaths into a creepy looking mannequin (it really was sorta creepy) and my boy had returned from his weekend away at the lakehouse.  The necessity of high speed internet prevented me from going with him, so tethered to the kitchen table, which is temporarily serving as my desk, I stayed.

**sidenote...I was released from the hellishness by my beautiful baby sister who comforted me with warm fires and hilarious conversations and encouraged me with a great big (on sale) dose of retail therapy.  I am eternally grateful, B**

Although my babies were at their daddy's for the weekend, my furry babies returned with sloppy kisses and lots of love.

The love of animals...ahhh....

I decided that there would be NO studying this day.  None.  So I put the books away, ignored the piles of paper on so called kitchen table/desk and did things that I wanted to do.  I did things that made me feel better as a person.  I did things that made me happy.

Oh, and I also took a three hour nap.  But when not napping...I...

baked chocolate chip walnut cookies for my honey, because he adores them, as evidenced by the lack of the pile I had made...

I've always wanted to do one of these, so I decided to buy one for the kids for Valentines Day.  Wow...my voice sounds a lot different than I thought it did.  Thanks, Britty for not laughing at me the whole way through it.  I hope that they like it.  It's really, really cute.

packed my daughter's lunch and actually went searching for an old party napkin from her birthday party that had Ariel on it (her favorite princess) and wrote her a special Valentine's day message.  Because she was SO excited about Valentine's day (blog post to follow)...and because I wanted to make my baby girl smile. 

I read something....other than a textbook...

and I worked on my little boy's "smoovy" (pronounced smu-vee, and a word created by mr. carter himself) for at least 2 hours.  He keeps asking me if I'll eevveerr be done with it.  I don't think he understand how long it takes to crochet one row...  One day he will have a new smoovy to replace the blankie I made him as I watched him through the holes of his incubator. 

I took the day off.
And it was a good day.

nostalgia

"A part of my appreciation for the good which moments bring has come from awareness and recognition. But it has also come from a correspnding sadness which arises from their passing. When something that can never quite be reenacted comes to an end (and all moments are that way), I feel a pensiveness within. This pensiveness gives my life a quality that might be best described as bittersweet. And those moments take on double meaning and richness - because they are here now - and because they will not always be." (b. benson)

perspective.

Honestly, I have no idea what happened to me.  I don't.  It's like in the last ten years I have completely morphed into someone I barely recognize sometimes.  What gives? (rhetorical question...clearly)

In high school, I was thrilled to get a C in Math...any kind of math, but especially Geometry, if I remember correctly.  And, it wasn't for lack of trying, I swear.  I went in for extra help at lunch and even stayed late sometimes (when I wasn't working full time or playing basketball).  I always just kinda realized that math is never going to be my strong suit. 

So I went to college and majored in English.  Ha!

No, for real.  I was NOT a freak about my grades in high school, although I graduated with a 3.8 (measly compared to the FOUR 4.0 valedictorians that we had), so I wasn't a horrible student.  I was just good at what I was good at, and tried the best I could at the rest. 
I guess the transition must have started happening when I went to college.  I was SO out of my league it wasn't even funny, both in the athletic venue I was pursuing, and in the academic venue.  I quickly, quickly, quickly learned that reading To Kill a Mockingbird as your senior novel, was not the norm of Taylor students.  I was surrounded by people who had read a TON of books, books I had never even heard of.  And that semester, I kinda sucked.  Granted, I will give myself a little bit of break in that I did have ankle surgery...three times, was on crutches and had a screw through the bones of my ankle.  But I got a 2.97.  A 2.97!  What?  I had never, never, ever gotten below a 3.0 in my life.  I was ashamed of myself, no less the resistance I got at home about it.  So...for the next couple years, I played catch-up BIG time!  I won't lie, there were times I nodded during conversations about literature when I had absolutely no freaking idea what was being talked about.  But I could sit down and have a conversation with you about postmodernism over a cup of coffee (oohh...wouldn't that be fun!).  No, for real, all English-dorkiness aside, I had to learn very quickly how to study, how to write papers, really the whole nine yards.  I don't know who reads this blog, and I'm not sure I really care if I put it out there that I am convinced I received a sub par high school education.  Like really sub par.  I'm not mad about it, it's whatever now, but I'm just sayin'.  And I wouldn't be afraid to say it to anyone else, either, so I guess it doesn't really matter. 

....stop....typing.....so....fast......

I graduated from an academically acclaimed university .02 GPA points away from honors.  I am proud of that.  I am proud that I wrote a 28 page senior paper about the role of women in Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary and Virginia Woolfe's To the Lighthouse.  I am proud that I endured student teaching, which is basically like feeding adults to teen aged students in small bites and bottling their screams of terror to listen to later and laugh at.  I am proud that I finished my degree, that I have a Bachelors of Science Degree from Taylor University.  There, I said it, all big like and acclaimed. 

But then, unfortunately, I didn't love what I went to school for.  No, let me correct that.  I love teaching.  I love it.  I love kids.  I love reading.  I love making kids love to read.  I love seeing the light in students eyes when they sympathize or connect with a character.  I love being passionate about literature to students.  I love connecting with students, seeing past their exteriors and understanding them in ways perhaps they don't have...and desperately need.  What I don't love is bureaucracy.  I don't love men in big scary suits who think they can dominate you with their big scary voices and ominous presence.  I don't like feeling like a rat who is spinning an endless wheel.  I don't like being accused of things that are beyond your wildest dreams and being stripped of any way to defend myself.  And when I was found "innocent"  I was offered the chance to resign.  There's your present...enjoy that pie.  Walking out of that school with all my boxes should not have been as heartbreaking as it was.  I miss that room, sometimes.  A lot.  And I miss those kids.  And I am so happy that so many of them still keep in touch with me.  So happy.

So here I am...with this degree and a whole hell of a lot of student loans, and although I never lost the passion, I lost the drive.  I lost what it takes to be a teacher.  I lost the ability to deal with the BS and just get through.  My second teaching job barely lasted six months...I was done.  Which brings me here...to this kitchen table which is littered with stapled powered presentations, highlighted textbooks, pens, planner, my cell phone and a whole bunch of other crap.  And I just took two tests.  TWO.  ON THE SAME DAY.  That is so rude.  And they were both unbelievably hard.  My Physiology test was over 6 hours of lecture, and 6 chapters of a textbook...in one week.  My Anatomy test (not the labeling part, the multiple question part) was over 3 Power Point presentations that were 150+ slides EACH.  And there is a part of me that says, wow that's a lot....you should do the best you can.  And then the other, evil, weirdo part of me completely freaks out and has to be perfect.  B's arent' even okay anymore.  I cry.  I throw things.  I would go so far as to say I punish myself mentally to the point of exhaustion.  I've got to stop.

I have got to stop rambling...as well.

So, perspective is clearly needed here.  And I'm no good at being positive towards myself, I'm working on it, but well, yeah...
So here's a list of positve things I've done:
I got an A in Chemistry.  I had an awesome tutor.  I actually understood what I was doing.  I felt smart.  I..got..an...A...in...Chemistry.  Five words I never thought I'd utter.
I also got an A in Statistics, a mathematics based class that had problems that were PAGES long.  What?  Me?  This is a certain recipie for disaster.  But, alas, a good professor who never belittled me, a lot of studying and persistence.  And voila..an A.
I have also gotten an A in Abnormal Psychology, Human Growth and Development, Human Nutrition and Pre-Nursing I.
That's all A's....

until now...

Human Anatomy and Human Physiology is taking me down.  I just can't seem to get above a B on a test.  And not for lack of studying...believe me.  I have foregone everything enjoyable in my life for this program, and I'm getting B's.  UGHH!  I want to be so mad at myself.  I want to point fingers at the person in the mirror and scream: you're a failure!  But, that's ridiculous.  One part of my head says this, so it must be true.

I'm getting B's in A&P.  And I'm darn proud of it. 
(I really didn't believe that at all, but it was a step in the right direction.)

Perspective, people, perspective.

And in the words of my babiest sister and my momma "sometimes, you just gotta give yourself a break."

Peace.  (I'm hoping for my own)

dear college advisor,

I'm a nice person, I am.  I try very hard to do what I say I am going to do and to be a good daughter, sister, friend, fiancee, mother, because those are the roles I have accepted.  And with an acceptance of a role, comes a certain responsibility.

SO...when you accept the role of being a college advisor, perhaps you should take your role of advising seriously and actually know what you are talking about before you answer questions, give definitive instructions, AND COST ME $65 IN UNNECESSARY FEES. 

I am very, very irritated. 

so there.

family.

"You couldn't have strength without weakness,

you couldn't have light without dark,

you couldn't have love without loss."

(jodi picoult)

html and other ramblings...

This HTML stuff is kinda hard...not going to lie. Maybe I should stop wasting time playing with my blog and study for my huge anatomy test (that is on Superbowl Sunday...re-gosh-darn-diculous).

But...many thanks to Marissa Sharbaugh who lent some incredible advice.

Being cooped up in the house for 3 days is wearing on my nerves, big time.  However, I did get the kiddos back today and that makes me happy, happy, happy.  Life is a little less boring with Nerf guns and Dora computer games.  I missed my kiddos.
So, tell me what you think.  Color scheme not so good?  I'm thinking of changing it again...can't decide to what.  Advice/comments/suggestions appreciated.

Oh, and I loathe this state right now.  Just sayin.

a crafty christmas

Every year I get some fabulously great idea about some craft I am going to complete...and usually the only "crafty" thing I accomplish are my Christmas cards, which do take about one bazillion hours, so I guess that counts.

But this year, I actually gave away as a gift something that I completely made with my hands.  And I think that's pretty cool.

I'll let the pictures tell the story..

First, you're definitely going to need a crafting partner.  Because crafts are messy and irritating at times, and sometimes, quite frankly, you just don't have enough fingers to hold the ribbon down while the glue dries and put the ribbon on at the same time.  She should also always be prepared with a rolling pin and meat mallet.

 I wish I was some cool blog author and could give you the actual recipie for what we did this day, but I can't. We're kinda "fly by the seat of our crafty little butts" kind of girls. 
So here's what we used:
refined white sugar
florida raw crystallized sugar
brown sugar
olive oil
(did I mention olive oil?)
calendula and shea butter baby lotion
essential oils
the meat of the inside of a vanilla bean (I cannot lie....we are SO cool)

And we put all kinds of various proportions of the above stuff into my kickin new Kitchen-Aid and Sugar Srub we made.  We took turns coming up with scents, while I wrestled with the containers trying to glue to stupid freaking ribbon on (it was really a tiresome process...better planning next time).

The scrub came out really neat...it made our hands feel like silk, but was also kinda the color of baby poo.  Also something to think about next year.  However, I gave mine to my friends at our annual Christmas tradition lunch, and one friend already told me how much she loved it, however she is also a really nice person, so we'll see...

We (really Britty) made mugs with cocoa and "smarshmellows" (as Carter would call them) and peppermint tea and lemon poppyseed bread for Britty to give to friends/family, whatnot...

I'd say this year far rocked out the year I tried to make sleeping pants for everyone.  I am laughing out loud on my couch thinking about those ridiculous things.  This is why I buy clothes.  But this day, we didn't buy, we made.  And not because we are extraordinarily poor, but because we wanted to give something that showed we cared.  A labor of love, if you will.

And...if nothing else.  It was a really freaking fun day.

 and dum...dum...dum...da..dum...my favorite picture of the day...