and so I'm a nurse

I woke up this morning a nurse. 

"What an accomplishment," so many have said to me in reference to passing my boards.  I feel a little funny about that.  Deciding to go to nursing school was probably the most selfish decision I've ever made.  My family suffered, my marriage was stressed, my children were probably borderline neglected, my Miss Tammie (daycare) was used and abused.  I was a less productive employee, a short tempered mom and a self centered wife while in the program.  So, thanks for the compliment, but in true Grammy style, this compliment really goes out to those poor unfortunate souls who had to endure my wrath while I trudged through the nursing program.

Thank You Scott for allowing me to pursue something that took up so much of my time and our money and required you to own the laundry and dishes and the mop.  You have been an incredible driving force.  Even when it would have been easier and better for all of us, you never let me quit.  You ignored the mess in my van that comes with living life between the classroom and clinicals and the hospital seven days a week.  I would have never made it through this without you.  Thank you.

Thank You Miss Tammie for opening your front door at 4:45 am and inviting us in and helping me build nests for the boys on your sofa.  You were my saving grace last semester when I was pulled into the office and warned that if I missed more than 6 minutes of class I would be dismissed form the program.  You took my boys through step throat, twice and once with pink eye.  I also recall dropping off Tommy one day with a gaping wound on his forehead.  "Call me if you can't get the bleeding to stop."  We would have been kicked out of a traditional daycare long ago.  The entire time you were going through a complicated pregnancy yourself and dealing with far more drama than you ever deserve.  Who was that woman that dropped off her kids just so she could go to some stupid class everyday?  Yeah sorry, that was me.

Employer who will remain nameless.  Thank you for looking the other way when I had my text books out studying the stupid endocrine system.  Thank you for allowing me to study while on the clock every day.  I even recall a certain charge nurse who shut down an ICU room for the day in order to allow me to glitter and glue my ADHD project.  I owe you printer toner and paper and probably a glue stick or two.  There were many days when my dinner was a left over patient tray because I was far to busy to cook.  I would have never passed a test if I didn't have real patients to play with or real nurses brains to pick or real doctors willing to let me assist them a the bedside.  In spite of my lack of productiveness some days you hung on to me and looked the other way all in hopes of me finally graduating and coming full circle to become a nurse. 

Thank you Father Mac for excusing me from mass each Sunday.  I was racked with guilt until one day you saw me in the ICU and said to me, "Don't feel guilty for a minute about not being at church on Sundays.  While we are there at mass talking about GOD's work, you are here doing GOD's work."  You're excused.  Thank you.  Also thank you little communion ladies who came to the ICU every Sunday to bring communion to the patients.  You would seek me out and administer my weekly dose of communion and insist that I pray with you (in the hallway, or patient room or nurse's lounge).  I have no doubt that you played a part in my surviving the program.  GOD probably listens to the prayers of little ladies like you.  Thank you for including me in some of them.

Thank you Mom for picking up your phone sometimes three times a day to allow me to vent, being my ethical sounding board, patting my back and laughing at my latest class pranks.  Even from 1,200 hundred miles away, I still wanted nothing more than to get off the school bus and pull a report card full of A's out of my backpack.  Thank you for holding me accountable.  Without your perseverance, the boys would still be behind on their immunizations and Finn wouldn't have been screened and signed up for speech therapy yet.  For the record, Miss Hewitt did not call today with his busing schedule, I will follow up with her this afternoon, because I know you're gonna ask me.  Even though you may not understand the Kreb's cycle or the care about metabolic acidosis, you were sympathetic when I complained about having to learn them them.  I love knowing that I can call you and tell you it was a bad day.  No details required, I only had to talk about it if I want to.  Scott wants details and plans and resolutions and analysis and sometimes I don't have the energy to rehash it or any desire to.  You take what I give and don't demand answers.  Many of our conversations involved me talking BLAH BLAH BLAH and you just listening.  I think I would have stabbed my eye out with my tuberculin syringe if I didn't know that no matter how awful this clinical day was, at the end I could walk out to my van and dial you up and dump it on you.  If you ever need to vent, call me, I think I owe you a few hundred hours.

Thank you co-students for putting up with my endless sense of humor.  Laughter is one of my favorite coping mechanisms.  For those of you who may have found yourself urinating in the men's bathroom when suddenly all lights were shut off,  I apologize.   The thought of you in there alongside a perfect stranger with you pants undone groping around to find your way out...  The giggles I got from that were therapeutic.  If you ever arrived home and opened your backpack only to find the classroom clock or part of the colon mannequin, again, sorry. 
You were all so encouraging when I hit the wall, we all took our turns.  Most of you were accepting when I laid down the disclaimer that I was a terrible friend too.  I'm not a reliable texter of facebooker, I will only show up to roughly one out of every ten invites and I lose touch really quickly.  But you all put up with me despite my numerous faults including allowing me to compete with you even though you didn't really want to compete with me.  I am a better nurse because of all you. 

To my nursing instructors:  I would like to thank you, but I'm not really ready for that.  I'm still suffering from a little post traumatic stress disorder.  I'm a nurse now and for that I'm thankful, but quite frankly, you were less than understanding and more than a little frustrating. 
My boys, my dear sweet boys.  Thank you for.....  Hmmmmm.... I can't thank you for allowing me to become a nurse, because you would have stopped me if you could have.  I guess I really want to say sorry.  You all suffered to a certain extent and I'm sorry mommy didn't decide to be a traditional college student and graduate before I got married and brought all of you into this world.  But that would have required planning and if I was a real planner, you probably wouldn't even exist.  So I'm just sorry.  You all seem to have made it through OK even though there were some close calls. 

A short list of items that I had to Forgo during the nursing program include but are not limited to the following:  Immunizations, PTA meetings, 1 parent teacher conference, the Seder dinner at church (count your blessings, parsley does not taste good), the occasional signing of the student planner, countless birthday party invites, career day, the Turkey Trot, yearly physicals, one dental cleaning. 

I didn't always chose to skip those things, but was required by a program that I did chose to enter.  It's your time now.  Mommy is not going to go to school for ANYTHING in the near future.  It's your turn now to be my priority again and believe me I'm paying for it.  Swim practice five nights a week, meets on the weekends, a birthday party for a friend this weekend and lots of quality time at the cottage. 

Elliott my dear old orange cat.  On several occasions you got a bit hungry and went for some periods with no water.  But do understand that is is difficult to water you often when you will only drink running water.  Also in my defense, the toilet is always open and I know I've seen you drink from it so don't pretend that you were ever actually that dehydrated.  I also let your shots slip by and for that I apologize.  I will try to fit you in here one of these days.  Thank you for being my late night study buddy and for keeping my lap warm everytime I sat down to study.  We spend many dark nights at the kitchen table making drug cards.  Thanks.

To all those innocent bystanders who endured my short temper and lack of patience.  This will include but again not be limited to:

Chatty bus stop girl
Chatty bus stop girl's mother
The school choice office
The IRS
The local Sheriffs department
Over zealous seven eleven employee
School bookkeeper Miss Bell (although you know you weren't actually innocent either)
Crabby little aggressive woman in Target who snapped at my boys


And anyone else that I may have lost my temper with or failed to give the utmost respect to:
I apologize.

You have all suffered over the last year, and so this morning I wake up as a nurse.

blessed

 

I could have wound up with a man that smothered me with his blanket of jealously…

Instead, I wound up with a man that trusts me completely and is even able to laugh and shake his head at the incredibly inappropriate text conversations that go one between myself and some of my male co workers with similar senses of humor. 

Complete trust and confidence in his position as my husband

 

I could be on this parenting journey with a man that is distanced around my children…

Instead, I am on this journey with a man that will willingly dive into any poopy situation and isn’t too busy to lay on his belly and play Matchbox cars.

Involved and interested in our little creations

 

I could easily find myself shacked up with a business partner sort of relationship resulting from the strains of parenting and working and living life…

Instead, I find myself in the arms of a man who is more in love with me than that October day I met him at the alter.

His love grows more and more each day, instead of a fading spark it’s a regular bon fire these days

 

I could be paired up with a dream crusher…

Instead, GOD has placed me with a complimenting partner that will quietly rein me back down to earth when the dreams get a little to far fetched.

Common sense and a gentle persuasiveness

 

I imagined I would be the wife to a man’s man, the kind that only mows the lawn and pounds nails and watches football and drinks beer.

Instead, I am the wife of a man who is owns an edger and a tractor and a blower but is well versed in the proper use of the lingerie bag that must be used when he washes my over priced Victoria Secret bras and is able to bath four boys with efficiency and who makes a bed far better than I could ever dream of.  He is willing to tear up during a country song that touches him.

A scratchy five o’clock shadow but soft enough to rock an exhausted toddler to sleep

 

How did I make such an incredible choice at 19 years old?

Why did GOD feel it appropriate to put a man of this caliber in my life when I could have married a multitude of disappointments around me?

How did my boys get so lucky to have a father that would do anything for them, even in the middle of the night or on a Thursday night after an exhausting day of delivering packages in a Fed Ex truck with no air conditioning on a sweltering summer day?

 

 

Blessed.

napping

Every time we idle of our channel in the boat on another excursion we find something different or something new.  Somethings however remain consistent.  Like the fact that every time we head out the little boys pass out.  

Maybe it’s the squinting in the sun or the constant droning hum of the motor.

 

They get snuggly and in no time are drooling and dreaming.

 

It’s not uncommon for them to fall asleep before we even reach the end of our canal, sleep the entire excursion away and then wake up just in time to watch Daddy park the boat back on the lift.  I can’t even recall the last nap they took inside the cottage in their little makeshift cottage beds.  Fresh air and sunshine does this to little boys and I love it.  

arrival

 

 

 

When we finally spent our first weekend at the cottage I realized, we have finally arrived.  This is why families have cottages.  I get it.  Soon after I lazed in my repurposed Craigslist hammock and I thought, “Wow, I’ve really arrived now!  Why have I never owned a hammock before?”  These last two weeks as we sped through the inter coastal waterways with my floppy green hat and my super tan legs I realized we have definitely arrived.  Arrived in the way a motorcycle enthusiast must feel as he cruises down the back country roads on his new Harley for the first time.  This is the lifestyle I’ve always watched from a distance and now am a part of and it’s incredible.

It’s really deeper than that though.  All the material things that have some how worked out and come our way over the last few months are really just a set of tools being used to bring us together.  Not that a boat or hammock alone will change one’s life, but the opportunity to spend time at the cottage every weekend or spend lazy Sundays in the two person hammock buried underneath four little men or trapped in a boat for six hours sitting in close proximity to each other.  Miles from wi fi access and cell service.  Just our family and the ocean breeze and the islands and the mangroves. 

Our family is tighter and tighter after each weekend we get away.  The boys are eating up the wholesome country lifestyle that we slip into every Saturday.  I now have a habit of leaving my cell phone in the drink holder in the van.  It’s useless to me on the island and not because the cell service on the island is less than desirable, but because I am already with my family.  I’m surrounded by all those who matter to me.  Except for my mom up north whom receives an ongoing and off going island phone call updating her on the sunburns and dolphins and quirky cottage issues. 

I woke up last Sunday morning and started mentally preparing excuses for missing church.  Sunday church would better fit in my schedule Monday through Friday when I have my date book out and am actually setting the alarm clock.  Weekends at the cottage are designed to be relaxing with no commitments.  Church however was designed for Sunday and GOD doesn’t live on island time like I do.  It’s never a question for Scott.  He wakes and rounds up boys and searches the cottage dresser for appropriate church clothes.  We have two drawers in the dresser.  The top drawer contains clothes for Scott and I.  This is where I retire my holey (not church holy, actually full of holes) before they meet their maker in the trash can.  The bottom drawer contains clothes for the boys.  Yes, they all share one drawer. 

I rolled over and looked at Scott, no excuse ready.  “We are all going to church,” he announced in his voice of reason.  I sighed but didn’t argue.  I knew he was right.  Since our weekends are just wholesome family time now, church is even more important and needs to play a priority.  Our children are watching and I want them to know how important church is for our family.  Scott’s mom and dad brought him to church every Sunday and since I was about 19, Scott has insisted that we go every week.  I want my boys to grow up knowing that this is a priority and feel confident in requiring that their own families attend as well.  I recall on vacation in Mexico finding a church and sitting through a mass.  Even though they didn’t speak English, they spoke Catholic.  It was comforting to see how a religion can span the country and how much I actually understood through the music and the tradition that originally seemed so intimidating as a non-Catholic. 

As I was shooing the boys toward the van we heard some splashing down by the dock.  We raced down to find a dolphin fishing in our canal.  We stood in silence watching his powerful body create a wake as he surfaced and dove below chasing schools of fish past our dock.  Incredible. I feel a bit like the girls in seventh grade with their colorful Lisa Frank dolphin notebooks.  Imagine a bunch of middle school girls in Northern Wisconsin obsessed with dolphins and unicorns and Persian cats.  I was too poor to own Lisa Frank notebooks and therefore declared that they were ridiculous.  But, maybe they were actually on to something with the dolphins.  They are stunning.  Majestic and powerful and captivating.  We were graced by this dolphin’s presence Sunday morning.   A little reward for doing the right thing and going to church.  Thank you. 

The minute I sat down in the pew and knelt to say my prayers I was reminded that this is just where I need to be.  Each time I hesitate to go to church and then end up going the message seems even more personal than usual.  I swear sometimes GOD plants a message in the priest's mouth that is to be delivered to me and me alone.  Several points that have been weighing heavily on my mind were addressed.  It clarified some things that Scott and I really needed to hear right now, however, Scott was conveniently in the bathroom with a little boy during said message.  I’m not sure he actually believed me when I reiterated the point.  Figures!

As we drove back to the cottage I issued the citations.  “Gavin, you lose 7 minutes of fishing for sitting your butt on the pew while kneeling, twice, and also for poking Finn and making him squeal during communion.  Tommy, you lose 15 minutes of fishing for leaving the pew to get a drink, twice, and for sitting while we stood during the Lord’s prayer and for offering to bring Finn back by Dad and then never returning.”  Punishments were served and the tide came in sun was received and bikes were ridden and mosquitoes were swatted and PBJ sandwiches were wolfed down at an alarming rate and then the tide went out and then the sun started to fall.

An evening dolphin/sunset cruise is quickly becoming one of my favorite times to be out on the boat.  The boys have full bellies and are exhausted from hours of playing in the sun and the surf and we take a mellow cruise while slowly chasing the sunset.  We are joined on all sides of the boat sometimes by the playful dolphins and I am reminded that all the technology in the world can’t match the great vastness of the ocean and the wonder of all creatures and the closeness it can bring a family immersing themselves in it each weekend. 

 

We’ve arrived.  How do I make sure we stay?

 

 

hand in hand

We spent last Sunday on the new boat that goes hand in hand with the new cottage…

 

We hit the water early and headed out for Picnic island which goes hand in hand with picnics of course…

 

 

We meandered through the mangroves which go hand in hand with any waterfront FL land…

 

We used the primitive island bathroom which go hand in hand with most uninhabited islands…

 

Not surprisingly, I took lots of photos which go hand in hand with all island adventures…

 

We posed for photos in our new required attire which goes hand in hand with our new boating lifestyle…

 

We enjoyed the sea gulls land that go hand in hand with any beach…

 

We enjoyed the private bay that went hand in hand with the private island…

 

Then we finally climbed aboard our boat and headed home to find the aloe that goes hand in hand with the sunburn.

when life gives you lemons

Technorati Tags: lemons,life,lemonade

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should be excited that you will soon be the envied green thumb of the neighborhood.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should be thankful that they require no real care and water and pruning.  Count your blessings that they just do their own thing.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should photograph them often.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should trick your boys into standing under the tree after a rain and then shake the branches to get them wet.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should have the “lemons aren’t baseballs waiting to be picked” speech with your boys.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should have the “lemons aren’t to be used as ammo” speech with your boys.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should enjoy the fragrant lemon blossoms each morning.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should share with your friends.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should cook lots of seafood.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should clean all of your copper bottomed pots.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should plant a lime tree.

 

When life gives you lemons you…

Should buy  a juicer at the thrift shop.

 

And I suppose when life gives you lemons you…

Could make some lemonade.

after the rain

During the rainy season the luminous clouds roll in like clockwork.  We work outside in the morning when it’s cool and play in the backyard in the late morning after breakfast.  Then it’s lunch and naps.  By the time we wake up in the afternoon it’s far too muggy to venture out.  So we wait.  We wait for the sun to hide and the clouds to saunter in.  The grass gets greener and the sky turns eerie and the pre rain smell wafts on the sticky breeze and the air gets heavy.  Sounds are intensified and the thunder rumbles quiet and dull and low.  The sky opens up and the sweet cleansing rain starts to wash away our sidewalk chalk and our skid marks.  Like drops of water on the hot pancake skillet, the raindrops eventually overwhelm the baking pavement and cool it  to something a little less than scalding.
We wake up from our napping pile calmly one at a time smiling in silence at each other.  We untangle and lay in bed while we listen to the fat raindrops pelting the window.  After ample stretching and cuddling we emerge from our nest like a bear family waking from hibernation.  We take our places at the dining room table.  I open the blinds so we can watch the storm while and eat cucumbers and drink icy root beer.  We sit in the dark munching and dipping our hands into the cool saltwater retrieving cucumber slices.  We search for the skinny ones with the highest salt to cuke ratio.  Just when we think it cannot possibly rain any harder it does, and it comes down in sheets overwhelming the eaves troughs.  My mind drifts to the backyard gardens.  The tomato under the drain spout has fought a valiant battle this rainy season, but today’s storm wills surely do him in.  I should have a garden full of little seedlings taking advantage of this soaking rain.  Instead, I have an empty garden save one aggressive rosemary plant.  My mind comes back to the table full of silent boys still puffy with sleep and then without notice the screaming rain turns to speaking rain and then whispering rain and then nothing but the occasional pitter patter.  The sun cautiously makes a reappearance ready to start undoing what the rain has created.  He works to dry up the ditches, heat up the pavement and scorch any new seedlings considering growth. 
We fly up from the table sloshing cucumber water and make our move.



I grab my camera and two shoes.  My lens immediately fogs over.  I wipe with my shirt again and again until my lens acclimates to match the steamy temperature outside.  I snap some test shots of my feet knowing I’ll scrap them later.  I don’t.  A sparkly heel and a men's size 13 flip flop.  This is honest and us, so it will survive editing. 


Those of us who had chosen to nap in the nude throw on whatever we can find, even if it means a pair of backward jeans. 



We don’t even take time to go potty.  It’s time to play.  So we climb to the top of the quarter pipe and slide down.  It’s rather slick when wet and makes for a speedy slide.  Hitting the pavement at the bottom is a bit abrupt but worth it. 


We waste no time tromping into the ditches.  Each one claims their territory. 


The goal being to get as wet as possible, create as much laundry as possible and have the most fun.

 
Bikes turn into make believe wave runners.  Splashing and spraying all spectators including ones with rather expensive cameras.  We do not discriminate.

 
Those of us who put clothes on get photo attention.  Those splashing naked in the driveway with their sippy cups are not afforded the same opportunity.  

   
There is no such thing as a no wake zone.  We race and ride and splash and soak until we’re out of breath and out of memory card space.



Slowly but surely the earth reclaims her water and our ditch way canals dissipate.  We stomp and splash till the water recedes and Daddy comes up the road in his truck. 
We all head inside for a special treat.  Fried chicken and mashed potatoes and movie night.  We cuddle and eat and watch a family movie.  A few nod off as Scott and I cuddle and watch a less appropriate movie while I hold a bag of frozen hushpuppies on a boy with a seriously bruised coccyx,(the result of a scooter/wood floor/mashed potatoes accident).  Carrying each slumbering boy off into another direction, Scott finally gives in to his heavy eyelids and retires.  I remain sitting in my chair computer in hand editing afternoon puddle photos.  I love editing photos by myself in the dark. 
Tomorrow will be more of the same.  Sun and cooking and playing and eating and cleaning and napping and rain and more sun and more eating and more playing and more eating and sleeping and cleaning and editing photos in the dark by myself with some mashed potatoes on the floor.   I can hardly wait. 

I had a dream

I had a dream the other night.  Not like the Martin Luther King dream but your typical, abstract slightly supernatural type of dream. I dreamt we ventured to a laundry mat.  It was bright and shiny and industrial.  Rows and rows of big loud machines humming and whirring and spinning.  Soap suds were on the floor and it was hot and sticky and humid.  I can remember my dream laundry mat so vividly. 

 

 

Which is funny because I’ve never actually gone to a laundry mat in real life.  Well, once in the itty bitty town i grew up in.  I think I crept in to spy on a boy I liked.  Why a 13 year old boy would be in a laundry mat I’m not sure.  Bizarre.  Anyway, I often use my dreams as inspirations for our adventures. 

 

 

So today, we went to the laundry mat.  I envisioned an educational fieldtrip of sorts and a fabulous photo shoot opportunity.  They would count their blessings and realize how fortunate they are to be born into a family that has the luxury of doing their own laundry in their own home in their own washer and I would walk away with a memory card full of clever little boys photos.  Instead…

 

 

There was little to no education involved and I walked away with ten pictures on my memory card two of which were unusable due to a steamy lens.  I found myself chaperoning a divided group of boys.  Two big boys who have absolutely without a doubt confirmed that I’m crazy and two little boys who have absolutely without a doubt confirmed that I’m the funnest mom ever.  We explored all things laundry until Finn settled on this rather large industrial washer.  I pulled out my camera for a few snaps.  Note that I did not photograph the two wet blankets who sat on the metal chairs slapping at mosquitoes on their bare legs complaining.  “I had a dream the other night that I had a motorcycle.  Ya think she’d let me ride a motorcycle?  DOUBT IT!  I had a dream the other night that she was normal?  Do you think that came true?  NOPE!”  I really wanted to photograph them and document it, but I don’t want to give them a reason to hate the camera.

  

 

Speaking of blankets, were you aware that they make a washer that can hold five standard loads of laundry at one time?  That’s a lot of wet blankets.  Our laundry mat field trip was short lived.  Partly because I brought no actual laundry (minus the two wet blankets), and partly because the laundry maid girl found it a little odd that a mother of four would show up at a laundry mat with nothing but her four shirtless boys and a camera.  When she approached the washers, I circled over toward the dryers, when she walked back to the dryers, I made a beeline for the commercial laundry section.  Around and around we went until I could take no more.  We never made actual eye contact but I got her message.

 

 

Short lived, but fun.  A little disappointing that we were not able to pile into the laundry cart pictured above.  It would have made for a lovely photo.  We’ll be back.  Maybe we’ll even do a load.  I think I could probably find some dirty laundry around here.  In fact I need to wrap this up because my own washer is attempting to walk across the floor while it spins.  To many wet blankets I guess. 

letter to 11 year old me

I just spend the last 45 minutes digging through the box of old photos, the kind you used to actual print before the digital era.  I was searching for a dandy picture of 11 year old me to accompany this post.  I dug through years of bad hair styles (this was not limited to me, I come  from a long line of bad hair), Cosby sweaters,  many awkward family photos including one where we’re all grouped around a casket smiling like we just won a million dollars.  Funny because I don’t recall that inheriting a million dollars or any money even, but we were certainly happy for some reason.  Unfortunately, I must have been a little camera shy around that age because there are no photos from about 11-13.  Either no one took any or they were all afraid of me (likely) or I have already destroyed the evidence of how ungraceful I was at that age. 

So please use you imagination and picture a fabulous photo of me here.  I would be wearing my favorite pink headband in my unwashed hair and smiling with some very crooked teeth.  I would probably be wearing makeup and if my memory serves me correctly, I would have matched my eye shadow to my shirt.  There’s a good chance it would be purple.  Unfortunately coming from a mother who doesn’t wear makeup I was on my own so naturally I also owned colored mascara and would have coordinated that accordingly.  I would be wearing a cheapy metal best friends necklace.  I always had the right half so it would have read “st ends” on my side of the broken heart.  I think that about covers it.  I know it’s just a photo but just to set the scene, I would have had some Wilson Phillips music playing in the background. 

 

As you can see I was in great need of advice, fashion and the like.  Not that I was interested in taking such advice from anyone.  In fact I had a lot of advice to offer everyone else because clearly I had it all figured out.  Since I haven’t changed all that much and still like to give that very advice, I am going back in time to send a little letter to 11 year old me. 

 

Greetings Erin,

Please put down that copy of Seventeen, your never goint ot look or dress like that anyway, and listen up.  I realize you have it all figured out and require absolutely no direction from me, but you may want to listen.  I know you better than you think I do and I can save you a great deal of suffering if you listen closely. 

Who you are:

You are Erin.  Don’t try to be anyone else.  Don’t hide what you perceive as your weaknesses.  People who would taunt you for living in a ramshackle house don’t deserve to be in your life anyway.  Believe me, they aren’t assuming you live in a castle anyway.  It will keep you humble which is a desirable adult trait.  It’s OK to be weird, at least when you’re an adult.  Don’t try to fit in so much and stifle your creativity.  Embrace your roots.  You turn out to be a really admirable person (at least in my slightly biased opinion)

Appearance:

No more perms, this includes home perms.  End of story.  If you are interested in living with no regrets, take this warning seriously.  You are not fat.  In fact, you will never be this skinny again.  You can see your feet.  You’re perfect, stop thinking about it.  You have the rest of your life to hate your body, enjoy it today.  On the appearance note, don’t sign up for the 4-H group dance performance.  You’ll end up winning and having to perform at the Wisconsin State Fair where you will be forever documented in the Milwaukee Journal dancing to a New Kids on the Block song called Hang In Tough.  You will dance with your brother and the paper will serve as evidence of your poor choice for the rest of your life.  If you ever fun for president this will be uncovered and your chances of winning will be ruined.

Bras

Quit wearing that bra, you’ll have the rest of your life to suffer with with underwire.  Enjoy the fact that you don’t actually require one now because after nursing four boys (yes, that’s what’s in your crystal ball) you will most certainly need one and Victoria Secret isn’t cheap either.  Start saving your money.   

 

Boys:

Just relax.  Stop trying so hard to make the boys like you.  Only the stupid ones will take notice anyway.  The most wonderful man will be coming your way in a few short years.  Just hang on and stop your foolish antics.  Seriously, the endless phone calls and the teasing are not really attractive anyway.  And dump Chad today, he ends up in prison later in life.  Just because someone is interested, doesn’t make them good boyfriend material and your mom is right, if they have chest hair, they aren’t boys. 

 

School:

Be a little kinder, don’t hate your teachers before they even have a chance to hate you.  Teaching is a really hard job and one day you will find yourself on the other side of the desk and believe me, it’s not easy.  Don’t spend so much time hating the popular girls.  It’s not entirely their fault that they’re popular and some of them are actually decent people.  After high school popularity means nothing anyway.  Believe that heath video that Mrs.. White forced you to watch, it really does hurt that bad to have a baby.  And don’t sign up for Spanish class.  Five years of Spanish with will not make you fluent.  Maybe spend some time in some intensive math.  Believe me, you’ll thank me when you take your college entrance exams.  Sitting through 7th grade algebra in college is embarrassing.  If your hesitating about breaking into the school and stealing that runty lab rat, go with your gut and do it.  She’ll be the best pet you’ll ever have. 

Family:

Quit wasting time thinking about how you can punish your sister today.  She’s not actually trying to destroy your life.  In fact, she turns out kind of nice.  Spend a little more time with your family instead of with your friends and your boy of the month.  Work with your Dad in the garden, one day you will have a real interest and no experience.  Your family isn’t going to be together like this forever. 

Plans:

Don’t get so caught up in following the plan.  You change your mind as often as you change your boyfriend.  Even though massage therapy sounds really cool and mystical it’s really just a job and once you’ve rubbed one back, you get kind of sick of it.  Keep an open mind and consider real college.  It’s far easier to do it when you’re 17 than when you have a big pregnant belly and more little babies at home. 

Life:

Enjoy not having to work for a paycheck only to give all that money to Publix and the electric company and to put gas in your minivan (sorry, that comes along with the four boys).  Embrace sleeping in and acting impulsively with relatively few consequences.  Your life turns out wonderful, although far from what you imagine right now.  Don’t spend too much time worrying about it.  You’ll end up in a good place. 

 

Warmest Regards,

Your friend from the future

coordination

 

Your wallet coordinates with your purse which matches your lunchbox which compliments your eye shadow which blends with your eyeliner. 

I am not you.

But occasionally I get lucky.

I went to the beach to catch a sunset with the boys last week and noticed much later during editing that the beach towels (actually my good bath towels which have no business being at the ocean) matched the evening color palette most exquisitely.

See, I may not have a matching bra and panty set on today, but I get it together occasionally. 

made to be broken

 

My prompt this morning from the creative writer’s block people was:   List the twenty rules that you’ve broken. 

Contrary to what you see in the above photo, I have never approached, fed or harassed an alligator in the state of Florida.  Considering that I may still run for president I will refrain from listing anything that is actually illegal.  Although, I have no law degree and have been quite surprised in the past by little actions that are actually illegal.  Not winding up my hose (guilty and charged already) and having a clothesline (both illegal in my city).   

In no particular order other than how memorable they were:

1.  Fashion.  I don’t believe I need to go much further but I can’t really help myself.

putting on a pair of nylons while driving (this was in the nineties and I had a spiral perm to go with my nude nylons).  While not technical spelled out in the state troopers’ handbook, I did get pulled over and ticketed.

having a spiral perm

having a mom that believed she could recreate the spiral perm in our own kitchen (not really a rule breaker, more of an unfortunate situation)

frequently wearing pj pants with holes in bad places

not remembering to sit like a lady while wearing said stripy pj pants

I could go on and on, but my prompt said twenty rules, not twenty categories.  I always interpret things my way.  I’m a fashion disaster and I’m well aware.  Moving on.

 

2.  Becoming a blogger without knowing anything about computers, like how to un indent this stupid line.  I don’t want it indented as though it’s  part of my number one category.  But I am sick of fighting it.  I give up Microsoft Live Writer.  You win.  I look dumb and you win!

     Believing that all advances in technology ended when I graduated high school in 1998

     “I’m sorry, that’s a what?  A flash drive?  It’s so small, don’t you lose it?”

3.  Taking a job in the IT department where my computer inadequacies really shine.

4.  Blogging about my lack of computer skills on a blog that I’ve instructed all my coworkers and supervisors to read.  Excellent decision Erin.

5.  Wearing my heart on my sleeve.

This will include the following:

     bursting into tears in the HR meeting

     bursting into tears in the school choice office

     bursting into tears when I got pulled over… twice

     I think you get the point

6.  Allowing my babies to run naked in the backyard

not all the time, but sometimes when there little buns look like they could use some sunshine

7.  Drinking caffeine while pregnant

8.  Allowing my boys to sleep with us.

so annoying

so cuddly

so habit forming

so gonna let Finn sleep with me tonight… again

9.  Not getting my cat spayed yet (as I mention this to my husband, he adds the tidbit that he hasn’t seen the cat in three days, problem resolved I guess)

10.  Not putting sunscreen on my boys unless other moms are watching

11.  Crashing parties

Here’s a documented account

12.  Feeding the boys organic apples and good old nitrate packed corndogs in the same meal.

13.  Watching Housewives, Desperate and New Jersey, Mob Wives and occasionally Basketball Wives

14.  Admitting I watch any of the trashy shows mentioned in number 13.

15.  Renting, not houses, just stuff

I have purchased (usually to the tune of twenty something dollars) more Red Box movies than anyone in South Florida

If your unaware, they do actually sell it to you if you keep it for X amount of days which I guess is better than charging you a dollar a day for the next sixty years.  My most recent purchase was a Diary of the Wimpy Kid movie.  

I would mention the library but I believe this would involve admitting to a crime because I have recently received some threatening letters.  Don’t mess with them.

16.  Not sorting laundry… ever.

17.  Not clipping my boys nails.

They’re boys.  I think they’re like wild birds that wear their talons down on rough surfaces.    Occasionally when I do locate the clipper behind the TV or in the sofa I will capture up one of them to examine.    It’s really a mystery because they aren’t ever long.  None of them are nail biters either.  I think I’ll stick with the wild eagle theory.  It’s weird.

18.  Blogging about the state of my boy’s talons as well as other personal issues as well as photos unflattering and possibly embarrassing.  Most of my boys don’t follow my blog, but one day they might or their girlfriends might.  But until one of them locates it while surfing the internet or until more of them start to read better and object, I’ll continue to blog.  Sorry boys, maybe you should start a blog about your mother.  You could post all those unflattering photos of her that she never does.  Fun idea.  In fact I could even help you with my expert computer skills. 

19.  Innocently researching on the internet at work the other day and threatening the entire network with a virus of sorts.  Actually, not sorry that this happened, it was an accident, but sorry the office IT security busted me in front of all my coworkers with a Ghostbusters looking contraption that worked like a metal detector beeping faster and faster the closer they got to me.  How embarrassing!  I’m still trying to determine if this was an office prank. 

20.  Pets

taking any animal rearing advice from my mother

     allowing her to convince me that the one eyed gerbil and the guinea pig should live together

     allowing her to convince me to set my pets free for the summer under the belief that we would capture them back up prior to the first frost.  This included

          rabbits, angora and albino, guinea pigs, mice, and goldfish

          for the record, the only ones that were ever capturable where the guinea pigs, they’re loyal

     allowing her to convince me that there is no reason that a cockatiel should have to live in her cage, even if we did have four cats

     allowing her to convince me that any animal can survive the winter outside as long as they have enough hay in their house (in Northern WI)

and lastly, buying puppies (very expensive) ... twice.   Rule number one in the cat lovers handbook clearly states, NO DOGS. 

 

 

I suppose that’s it.  I briefly considered following all the above rules today but looked down at the computer in my lap sitting on top of the stripy holey pj pants and have decided that maybe I can start following the rules tomorrow. 

be skeptical, be very skeptical

 

 

Some of the most embarrassing or upsetting or near death experiences in one’s life are the result of childhood sibling pranks.  The very brother that should have your back is the same brother who might convince you to put a water balloon in your shorts just so he can pop it and make you look like you had an accident.  Even though a 2 year old having an accident isn’t even actually surprising or even funny.  But logic doesn’t really apply to practical jokes.  If you can point your finger and laugh at someone, it’s funny and it doesn’t matter even if they’re bleeding or blushing

With three older brothers, Petey often gets the short straw and finds himself at the wrong end of practical jokes.  He’s an easy target being too gullible, too patient, and too agreeable.  Poor guy.

This is part of every family with a sibling group close in age.  I was a middle child and recall being both the pranker and the prankee.  I’m still trying to settle the score and continue to be the office practical joker.  After all, what fun is an office without a practical joker? 

I recall a few legendary pranks from childhood that could serve as a PSA to young people amongst sibling groups everywhere

If your older siblings fashion you a diving helmet from an old motorcycle helmet and some duct tape it’s too good to be true.  Actual diving helmets can’t be built, one must purchase them from a reputable company.

If they let you have the last piece of (pizza, pie, toast etc…) there’s something wrong with it and they’ll all laugh if you eat it.  If you don’t have to fight for it don’t trust it.  Never eat the beef jerky in the back at the back of the frige.  Most likely it’s dog treats. 

If you ever wake up to find the crotch has been cut out of all you pants and underwear, you best analyze your yesterday’s actions and make amends quickly.  There could be an underlying message here and you best take the warning and back off. 

In true practical joke fashion, I’m waiting for Scott to turn on the sink faucet as I type.  I’ve rigged the classic rubber band around the spray trigger trick.  This still makes me smile, nothing funnier than seeing someone get sprayed in the crotch with cold water.  Hmmmmm…

Not that far from the joke the big boys are playing on poor unsuspecting Petey in this photo.  Do you think they get this from me?

Carmageddon Advice From your East Coast Neighbors

It appears doomsday is upon you. We’ve watched you pondering and planning and pouting all week bracing for the dreaded 405 freeway shutdown that will occur this Friday.


We’ve learned from our national media that your beloved 405 carries a half million people from San Fernando Valley to West LA every day. The shutdown, that you’ve nicknamed Carmageddon (we think this is so clever), will close ten miles of your freeway from Friday to Monday for some much needed widening. In good old American disaster fashion, the media loves this, the late night shows love this and the economy loves this. You are evaluating detours, and listening to PSA’s and Tweets from hired celebrities. As with most predictable disasters, the economy is smiling as new GPS apps are flying off virtual shelves and you stock up on whatever their local news anchors convince you there is a shortage of. We don’t mock you for behavior as many of us are still eating canned green beans from a recent near miss.

Here on the East coast, we are quite familiar with disaster preparedness. A disaster that sneaks up with no warning almost seems more tolerable than the ones that are preceded with days of warnings. Although FL celebrities don’t usually Tweet about hurricanes, maybe because celebrities don’t actually reside in FL or maybe because the celebrities that do are too busy playing shuffleboard in their matching track suits. Receiving warning of the impending doom has the same effect whether it’s a hurricane or a shutdown of a vital thoroughfare. Like all disasters, those who prepare well and make smart decisions survive, and those who don’t make the news. Here’s some disaster advice from your friendly neighbors:



Hibernate:

East Coast Comparison: The resident who plans and prepares accordingly, accepts his fate and hunkers down

* take your earplugs out of your head and shut the computer and turn your I-phone off and have your spouse hide it (you know temptation will get you) and take a good look around. You’ve probably been missing some things. Did you know you you had a cat?

* Make pancakes or meatloaf

* Get to know your kids

* Play those board games you got but never opened

* Introduce yourself to your neighbors; you know they’ve been wondering about you

* Take a bath, it’s not just a shower, you can actually sit or even lie down in that thing

* Throw a BBQ Carmageddon party. We call them hurricane parties, mostly designed to clean out the freezer prior to losing electricity for two weeks, but if the end is coming, who doesn’t want to go out drinking beer and eating hotdogs? I’ll RSVP to that one

Venture Out (not recommended):

East Coast Comparison: The individuals who take their boats out into the ocean to ride out the storm

* Realize that no disaster has ever been improved by an extra onslaught of onlookers (if this speaks to you, reconsider and see above list)

* Realize that you are a workaholic. If this is by your own choice, get help. If this is required by your employer, get a lawyer

* Understand that there will be no short cuts, no secret back way and no speeding

* Attempting to find a new shortcut will no doubt cause you to find yourself in suburban hell winding through garage sale lined streets and church picnics and small town parades celebrating strange small town milestones.

* It will take you three times longer to get there than the time you actually spend there, prepare to be disappointed

* Prepare to be even more disappointed when you see your gas bill

* Prepare to be surprised when you find yourself stopping to buy a striking lamp for the guest room at random garage sale. Welcome to the real America where we don’t drive past everything at 80 miles an hour.

* Stay calm. Expect delays. If you tend to be uptight to start with, consider wearing a bathing suit and flip flops and a straw hat for your commute. How angry can one actually get while in beach gear? Well, technically you can get angry but may consider withholding any road rage displays out of fear of looking ridiculous. Would you be intimidated by a man in a Speedo and plastic flip flops and a visor ranting and raving and honking while listening to the Beach Boys? I think not.

* Listen to good music, not the good music you listen to while jogging or preparing for battle, the kind your crunchy massage therapist plays while you’re on her table.

Take a deep breath California. Recognize it… and release it… In with the good… out with the bad…

This too shall pass and at least you still have your air conditioning and at least your state fixes your roads in a timely manner. Three days is quite impressive by Florida standards. A few of us are laughing at you and some of us are praying for you and most of us are sitting back, in our lawn chairs on the beach (because everyone knows that people in FL just sit on beaches like people in CA sit in cars on their freeways) and thinking of you.

Take the advice and please come visit, it’s been awhile. We miss you us and quite frankly, we could use the tourism dollars.

Love,

Your East Coast Neighbors

out on a limb

I presume this one’s ours…
Gangling…
Winding…
Battered, but unyielding…
Unique…
Twisty…
Scarred, but magnificent…
Determined…
Complex…
Solidly attachment to the trunk…
Charming…
Worn…
Forking sporadically…
Accommodating…
Flourishing…
Riddled with holes…
Stable…
Captivating…
Threatened by storms…
Evolving…
Reaching…
Yearning to be bigger, but not willing to unbalance the tree…
Unpredictable…
Alive…
Lacking in grace…
Amazing…

I think this one’s ours.

suffering

Mostly I blog from photo inspiration.  Often times these photos have a recent experience woven into them that just begs to be written.  Sometimes though, I look at the photos from my most recent camera purging and nothing jumps out at me.  Plan B is to think about what’s happened in my life most recently that is causing me some sort of emotion.  Maybe I’m overwhelmed with being mommy this week or maybe I’m jumping into some exciting new hobby or most recently on the verge of dropping out of life to live in a quiet commune and raise my boys and home school them and hide them from the world (yeah, this never really materialized).  But when nothing is rattling around in my head threatening to take over unless I peck it out on the keyboard I have a plan C.  Some people get a daily joke delivered to them, some get their horoscope.  I get a creative writing theme to work on. 

Plan A and B fell through today so onto plan C.

Assignment: Make a list of 31 things that caused you great mental or physical discomfort this week.  Put them in no particular order and do not spell check them.  This is just a list, not a best seller.

Situations that caused me to suffer mentally or physically this week are as follows:

1.  Swimming at our first sanctioned swim meet and watching Gavin get disqualified because I explained to him how to touch the wall and perform a flip turn when in fact I was completely wrong.  This is probably why I am not a swim coach, or a swimmer for that reason.   
2.  Arriving at the pump to fill up gas and remembering that I threw my debit card in the garbage at work. 
3.  Digging throw the garbage at work to recover said debit card after driving through afternoon traffic.
4.  Tearing up when explaining to a mom at a swim meet how much it meant to my son when her teenage son was the single voice cheering him through his backstroke when his goggles fell off.  Can’t I ever say anything with out emotion spilling out anymore?  I hate that!
5.  Opening an envelope from the IRS. 
6.  Finding out that that my friends at the IRS would like $2000.00 more by next month.  Yeah, probably not.  Sorry.
7.  Hiding in the only semi quiet area today, my office, but sitting on the sofa on top of the dumped out monopoly game.  OUCH!
8.  Cleaning up poop three times today.  No more pooping!
9.  Washing the moldy lunch bag.
10. Having to pay $41.00 for 2 printer cartridges.  Who is getting rich here?  This is crazy.
11. Panicking during an interview while trying to recall the last five books I’ve read during an interview.  I can’t even remember not to throw out my own debit card.  What makes you think I can recall the last five books I’ve read.  Worst interview of my life.  Never felt more stupid.  Well, yeah I have, but it still really sucked.  Got the job though. 
12.  My new sinus problems. 
13.  Paying for stupid sinus medicine.  Must be made by the printer cartridge people because it costs almost as much.
14.  Agreeing not to go to the cottage this weekend and to stay home and clean instead.  Notice I’m not cleaning though.
15.  Trying to unsubscribe from stupid Yahoo group I joined that sends out a hundred emails a day.  Leave me alone.  I changed my mind.  I’m not interested in home canning anymore, not if it involves receiving 50 GOD forsaken emails a day.  No, no, no keep all your stupid canning secrets to yourself.
16.  Having my recovered debit card declined in the 7-11 because I was pumping gas at the same time I was attempting to purchase Gatorade. 
17.  Having clerk point out that it was illegal to allow the gas to pump unattended.
18.  Lying through my teeth explaining that it wasn’t unattended.  My husband was out there in the van laying down and was watching the pump.
19.  Watching clerk laugh at me as I walk out and fake conversation with my non existent husband and stop the gas.
20.  Losing right little toenail on ridiculously small shopping cart at Indian spice (or whatever that smell is) smelling natural food store. 
21.  Removing 7 wet moldy swim towels from my van.  Sometimes I hate Florida.
22.  Juicing and drinking Parsley.  Experimental purposes only, not by real choice.
23.  Cleaning stupid juicer afterwards.
24.  Getting honked at when I had no choice but to change three lanes at a time.  It’s not my fault, it was a bad road design.  Don’t honk at me. 
25.  Submitting an article, then reading it and finding an error after it was too late.  Argggggg…  I’m too impulsive. 
26.  Wearing an underwire bra (this should require no further explanation).
27.  Hearing the alarm clock.
28.  Finding a dead lizard in my bed.  Not the more tolerable dried and crispy version, an actual cold, moist, squishy one. 
29.  Defending the cats while my husband cursed them after unknowingly picking up the dead lizard in the dark.  That was meant to be a gift.  You are so unappreciative.
30.  Allowing Petey to have a full fledged temper tantrum on the deck of the pool while attempting to convince him I was oblivious to his crazy behavior and simultaneously attempting to convince all nearby adults, including the suspicious looking most likely under cover DCF woman, that I was indeed his loving mother and was attempting to teach him that this behavior did not have any power.
31.  Finn

So who cares what your horoscope read  or what your joke of the day is.  Today I want you to think about 31 reasons you feel bad for me and what you might be able to do to help me out this week and ease my suffering. Please put them in either alphabetical order or prioritize them and be sure to spell check.  This is not seventh grade creative writing with Mr. Lebouton.  You are an adult.  Be responsible with your words and your punctuation.  Please forward lists no later than midnight tonight.

Thank You,
Erin