To Sleep or Not to Sleep

For the past four years I have had an issue with insomnia, primarily during the winter months and if I am going to be honest, it is mostly self-induced...brain overload, hot flashes, quiet "me" time...you name it, I can rationalize why I wake up to use the bathroom & end up staying awake for an hour or two, four out seven nights per week.

I never thought it was a real problem...until this past holiday break when my insomnia had reached an all-time peak...I'd stay up late, at least until 11pm, and then wake up an hour or two later, only to force myself back to sleep around 4am.  While this was okay during a break, it was not going to work once we went back to school and I needed a solution.  So, without over analyzing or searching the internet, I came up with my own solution.  

Nighttime Routine's Aren't Just for Kids

It was apparent that I needed a positive, mind clearing, body relaxing routine, so I created these four steps that I attempt to follow, Sunday thru Thursday.

1.  Take a hot, relaxing shower approximately 45 minutes before my proposed bed time - sometimes sooner, depending upon the day I have had (example: craptastic day = 6pm, good day = 8:30pm).  I use this absolutely delicious shower gel made by Bath & Body Works Sleepy Time Tea, followed up by the matching lotion when I get out and towel off.   I smell yummy & feel like I have washed away the day - good or bad, it's like a fresh start for a great night's sleep. 

2.*  Brew a yummy mug of **Celestial Seasonings brand of "Sleepy Time Tea" and drink about 30 minutes before I actually want to fall asleep - I usually drink it while I am reading a book.

3. All electronics are turned off approximately 30 minutes prior to be going to the bedroom.  My cell phone now charges in the kitchen because I do not have enough self-control to NOT check FB when I wake up in the middle of the night.  Plus I read somewhere that it is bad feng shui to have electronic devices in your bedroom - thus the reason we no longer have a TV in our bedroom.

4. Read a good book for a 15-30 minutes.  This and saying my prayers before bed has always been a part of my nightly routine - the difference is that now I am physically relaxed & ready to let my mind relax too, making the process all the more enjoyable.

Results: Holy Wah, It Works!

The crazy thing is that the results were almost instantaneous - the first night I did all three steps I slept through the night, not even waking up to use the bathroom (that is dependent upon how much water I've drank during the day).  When I follow this routine I get a good 7-8 hours of sleep and I awake well-rested.  

*Note:  If I skip a step it is the tea - but not for more than one day because the next night I end up have restless leg issues and can't relax.  

**Celestial Seasoning's "Sleepy Time Tea" can be found in just about any grocery store or drug store - I bought  mine at a local Walgreens, less than $4 a box.

Soup it Is!

Being the devoted wife & mother that I am (stop laughing, it sounds good), I decided to start the week off right with a tasty new soup recipe I had found on Pinterest.  Recipes have to have a few specific criteria in order for me to be interested in pursuing them in my kitchen:

1.  Minimal ingredients that can be found in any local supermarket

2.  Spices that are (normally) found in my cabinet (again, nothing that would force me to shop at a specialty store - I'm too lazy for that nonsense)

3. At least 3 out of 4 of my family members will consider it edible and delicious...I do not have to be one of them, but it helps.

My family & I love Olive Garden but we don't go often --- too expensive for four people & we always over indulge, feeling like we need to be rolled out, rather than walk out on our own.  So when I found this recipe, originally titled "Knockin' Off the OG - Pasta Figioli, I was intrigued.  Even better was when I realized that it was a crockpot recipe...love the dump & go recipes that don't taste like a hodge podge of nonsense and I LOVE OG's soup.

Here it is: Nicole's Version of Pasta Fagioli (because I broke rule number two and did not have all of the spices in my cupboard for the recipe found below)

Ingredients

1 cup of diced onion
1 cup of chopped carrots
1 cup of chopped celery 
2 cloves of garlic, (sliced in small pieces because I haven't replaced my mincer)
1 lb. of lean ground beef
2 1/2 cups of V-8 (I used the low sodium version)
1 can (15 oz.) diced tomatoes (I used the Italian seasoned blend)
1 can of light red kidney beans 
1 can of northern beans
Salt & pepper (to season)
1/2 box of ditalini noodles

Directions

First, I placed two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil in a large frying pan, heating to a medium heat.  Once warm I added the chopped veggies & garlic, sauteing until soft; adding diced tomato & ground beef to this mixture; turn up the heat and brown the burger.

Note:  After the meat mixture is brown I put it into a strainer and rinse with warm water to get the grease off.  Not sure how much this helps but it makes me feel like I'm doing something good and helps with that unappetizing oil sheen found on meals with meat.

Now the fun part:  dump the meat mixture and ALL of the other ingredients into the crockpot and cook on low for 4 hours. Cook the pasta according to directions, add to the crockpot mixture and cook for another 30 minutes.  Make sure that you leave the pasta a bit firm otherwise it will get mushy & we all know that would be gross, right?

Dish up in cute bowls, sprinkle parmesan  cheese on top & serve with your favorite tasty bread - we chose to have toasted garlic bread and it was delicious...with plenty left over for lunches.

Here is the link to the original recipe:
Knockin' Off the OG - Original Recipe

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!

Determined to start the week off on the right foot, I forced myself to get a crockpot meal going this morning...so I quick grabbed my phone & found a recently pinned recipe: Not-Chicken-Pot-Pie Slow Cooker Meal (original link at the bottom of this post).  Basically this would be a chicken pot pie, without the pie crust.  

Is it easy?  Oh yes - all of this was prepped and tossed into the crockpot in less than 15 minutes; peeling & dicing the potatoes was the most time consuming part of the process.

Ingredients Needed

4 - boneless, skinless breasts

1 can low-fat cream of chicken soup 

1 can low-fact cream of celery soup 

1 bag of frozen peas & carrots

4 medium potatoes, peeled & diced into bite size pieces

2 cups vegetable broth

Salt & pepper to taste

2 cans of biscuits (or make them from scratch, if you prefer)

1 1/2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese (to add after you put it on the plate)

Directions:

Pour your vegetable broth into the crockpot; place the potatoes in the broth, laying the chicken breasts on top of the potatoes; pour soup & veggies on top, add the cover and cook on low for 6-8 hours.  Take the chicken out of the crockpot and cut into bite size pieces or shred - my family likes it shredded so that's what we did.

Bake your biscuits as directed; I put two baked biscuits on each plate, poured the chicken mixture over the biscuits and topped with a handful of cheddar cheese - not necessary but my family loves cheese and we loved it.

Note: When I got  home from work the crock pot had turned itself off - thankfully the chicken was cooked but the potatoes were a bit firm.  I poured everything into a large pan & heated it to boiling, adding 2 tbsp. of flour to thicken up the sauce.

Here is the link to the original recipe - note how orangy/cheesy it looks and how pale/beige ours turned out.  I was a bit nervous but once we started eating it we were sold and forgot all about the color issues.  

Yay - another new meal that was quick, easy & super tasty...and we had plenty for leftovers!

https://themonthlylineup.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/not-chicken-pot-pie-slow-cooker/

Let's Get this Party Started

The first week of February has already passed and I'm sitting here thinking "what the hell happened to January?"  Just like every other well-intentioned knuckle head in the free world, I decided to set some goals.  Yes, you read that correctly, goals, not resolutions because that (in my honest opinion) has a negative connotation to it...a problem that you resolve to fix because you are a failure...and you will be again when you don't make it through January. So, goals they are:

Goals for the New Year &  a More Effective Me...notice I didn't say "new me" because that is impossible...hells bells, I'm 45, there isn't a whole lot of "new" happening over here, unless you count the work of gravity & the lovely side effects of perimenopause (the precursor to the real deal, menopause): night sweats, hot flashes, more stubborn than normal belly fat, and a serious lack of short term memory, just to name a few.

Goal Numero Uno

Keep work at work.  I am a teacher and everybody knows that we have a buttload of papers to grade and creative lessons to plan, lessons that will not only educate young minds but keep them entertained for hours at a time.  Well, by the second day of the holiday break, just when I felt like I was starting to relax, I fell sick with bacterial pneumonia...lasting 10 of the 14 days I had off.  So much for time off...coughing my lungs up (peeing my pants every damn time) and unable to sleep more than two hours at a time.  What does this have to do with work?  The stress (self-induced) & strain of having to get it all done kept me going through the school week(s) but as soon as I had time to chill, my body & immune system rebelled.  I have not been that sick in a long time and it was enough to make me say to myself (and later my family) "something has to give" and it was all of the working during non-work hours.  Note:  I am required to be at work 7:15-3:15pm every day.  Some days I may go in a bit early or stay until 4pm, but NO work is coming home with me.

Goal Number Two (yeah, my Spanish is limited)

Get healthy, mentally and physically.  Just like hundreds, hell thousands, of other women out there, I have been a yo-yo dieter.  I have lost & gained the same thirty pounds at least twice in the past ten years.  Again, I am 45 and I have no grand illusions of becoming a middle-aged Sports Illustrated model.  But I do want to be comfortable in my own skins.  I do want less body aches and I do want to look & feel good - even if "good" is my own definition and not something imposed upon me by the media.  This goal is a bit more labor intensive as it requires something that I have very little of...patience and willpower.  

Healthy - physical: drink a minimum of 64 ounces of water per day and walk a minimum of 10,000 steps (at least 30 minutes of steady activity) - I use my Fitbit to keep track of this.  It can also track my food intake but I haven't tackled that, yet.  Note:  I need to get my water intake up to 95 ounces but I'm a work in progress.


Healthy - mentally:  make more time for me...reading what I want, when I want; doodling & crafting like I did before kids & teaching; walking outdoors at least once a day - the fresh air is killer (yep, I just showed my age) for getting my head straight AND it helps with the physical portion of this goal.

That's it folks, two goals...simply because I want to succeed this time.  Any more than two and I'd be overwhelmed and ditch it all for a lovely bowl of Wavy Lays Potato Chips and Dean's Sour Cream & Onion dip or spending my Sunday's planning & stressing over school work.


So now you are wondering if I have made any progress?  Hell yeah I have - cuz I don't have the balls to write all of this only to tell you that I am failing miserably, ha!

Progress on Goal 1: I am learning to make use of every free moment I have at school.  My students are not suffering and neither am I.  I also forgot to mention that I am not staying after school past 4pm, and some days I leave by 3pm so I can pick up the teens from school.  My stress level is waaaaayyy down & I am really learning not to sweat the small stuff...okay, so I am a slow learner.

Progress on Goal 2: Intaking 64 ounces of  water & walking 10,000 steps on a daily basis - check!  I find myself craving water & I get irritated and antsy if I don't walk.  Going to start tracking my food to really get to the next level...and cooking more, which leads me to this:  creating and implementing a new goal....

Goal Number Three

Creating a budget that we can stick to and get out of debt.  This morning I wrote up the basics of our income & expenses and I was completely mortified by how much money we earn AND waste.  Where does it go?  Why are we unable to keep & grow a savings account?  Simple answer: we eat out too damn much and that has to stop.  Which means thoughtful grocery shopping and all hands on deck with cooking dinner.  Since I just created this goal today, I do not have any progress to report except that we grocery shopped & I forgot the list at home (filled with ingredients for my Pinterest inspired dishes) but we did okay...lots of green stuff, lean meats & healthy grains.  It's a start, right?

If you have any positive, healthy suggestions to assist me that would be fabulous...because I need all of the good ju-ju I can get.

Dreams of Being Fly

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday (she says in her stock car racing announcer voice)!  I was awake early, much to my dismay and not ready to commit to anything productive, so I grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels...

I'm cruising through the ridiculousness we call cable TV, with nothing but infomercials and Super Bowl crap filling the screen, when I feel like I have hit the television jackpot...the early 90's Fox sitcom, "Living Single", starring Queen Latifah and Kim Fields.  Hells bells, it was a blast from the past! I was so freaking thrilled, it was like I had literally stepped back in time: big hair, bright colors & snarky one-liners delivered by authentically humorous characters...and none of that ridiculous canned laughter that often accompanies sitcoms.  Much to Big Daddy's chagrin, I was in early 90's television heaven and I was not turning the channel.

There I was, cozy on the sofa, reminiscing about the good ol' days, recalling, out loud to a very disinterested Big Daddy, reminding him that this was when Fox TV was the home to all of the fun & flavorful TV that made us laugh out loud...I mean, who didn't love "Martin" or "In Living Color"? Aww hell, I was getting all misty eyed and shit, and he was mentally counting down the minutes until he was in control of the damn remote.  But since when did I care if he was actually listening?  I had a captive audience and I was making the most of it.

Big Daddy's inattentiveness aside, this accidental stumble upon an old television favorite had me happily dancing (because that's what I did in the early 90's, danced like a fiend) down memory lane, clearly recalling when my dream was to be "fly" and all of that other nonsense.  I could clearly visualize the rayon baby doll dresses worn over capri leggings, accessorized with obnoxious hoop earrings and the bright red lipstick that Big Daddy despised.  My sharp stacked bob haircut was admired and replicated by many...true story, since I was a hairstylist and my hair was always on point. Hell, I even suffered through those high waisted jeans (giving me approximately four inches between my bra & my waist band - thank goodness breathing wasn't important, right?) and the perpetual wedgie they gave you, just to pull off some of those awesome looks.

Isn't it crazy how the memory works?  I cannot recall what I was going to do five minutes ago, yet I can clearly recall what I wore 20+ years ago when I was at the club dancing to Deee-lite.  Now that I am in my mid-40's  and fashionably challenged (my style is comfort...yes, I just made that up) and I have been through quite a few fashion trends/mishaps, I can hands down say that the styles of the early 90's were by far the best.  Maybe it was because I was at least 60 pounds thinner and did not have the body image issues accompanied with weight gain & age.  Or maybe it was because we were all that & a bag of chips - damn skippy, yo.  It's my story and I'm sticking to it.

BTW:  I don't get free reign of the remote often...I can't imagine why, can you?

Friday Eve Bliss...Or Something Like That

It has been an interesting work week...hell, it's been an interesting week in general.  A couple of  work-related temper tantrums, a come to Jesus (not literally) talk with my administrator & more than a healthy dose of snarkiness dished out to just about anybody that crossed my path, makes this chick very ready for the weekend.

The family goal this week was to eat at home at least 75% of the time and so far we have succeeded.  K helped me make a super tasty meal the other night that I thought I'd share with ya'll...and even better, it was almost better for lunch the following day:

Parmesan Crusted Salmon - melt in your mouth delicious!  I have used this same recipe with tilapia and flounder but the salmon, by far, was a huge hit with the fam.  The stronger flavor of the salmon combined with the parmesan (mayo based) crust was tantalizing for our taste buds...yum!

http://shecookshecleans.net/2012/05/19/oven-roasted-salmon-with-parmesan-mayo-crust/

We served this with a very tasty Creamy Garlic Pasta - which was super easy to make, full of flavor (pasta cooks in the chicken broth, not water, therefore there was tons of flavor in every bite!)

It was so easy to make I passed the buck on to K - she made the pasta and I made the fish.  And as corny as this may sound, especially for those of you that know me, I have really begun to enjoy spending time in the kitchen with the fam...when it's all on me to put the meal together, I think I get a little bit resentful.  But when we're working together it is fun & doesn't seem like such a chore.  Damn, too bad I didn't learn this sooner, right?  My pocketbook & my belly (that resembles an ostrich egg, profile view) would be in different states...the former a bit more full & the latter, a bit less full - live & learn, right?


Here is the recipe:
 http://thecheesepusher.tumblr.com/post/2719857351/creamy-garlic-pasta

These recipes are not of my creation and I do not claim to have done so, thus the reason for the links rather than me typing out the recipe.  Okay, and maybe I'm a bit lazy when it comes to typing numbers & symbols, so cutting & pasting the link is how I am going to roll...and it gives the original bloggers props.

On other healthy news - I've been drinking at least 64 oz. of water per day & I'm getting in at least 7,000 steps per day...the goal is 10,000 but 7,000 is more than 0, right?  Oh yeah, and I've been drinking my Plexus pink drink everyday...just as effective as a bowl of bran flakes and way less mushy.

And on that note, peace out - enjoy your Friday Eve my Superior peeps!

Lavinder's Going Lean

We've all got dreams, aspirations, shit we'd like to do, right? But there are obstacles that get in our way, taking the wind out of our sails and causing us to give up.  I cannot count how many times I've started a diet or a budget, only to have a crap day where I've dropped every ounce of self-control and went back to old, bad habits:  stopping for McDonald's value meals because it was quick & easy or shopping for a new blouse because I felt like I'd earned it.

I have dream, a dream that will allow my family & I to be a part of something that we not only love, but that we believe in and will allow us to become a contributing member of our community.  But in order for this dream to become a reality it will take some financial finagling meaning we need to create a hard core, no nonsense budget and stick to it.



First on the list of changes is eating at home...thank goodness for Pinterest or I'd reach my frustration point real quick!  This is what we had tonight and it was delish:

Cheesy Chicken and Rice

Note:  I used fat-free cream of celery soup instead of cream of chicken (I feel like it has a bit more flavor) and I substituted a shredded rotisserie chicken instead of cut up chicken breasts.  DELISH!

Now as for the budget, stay tuned to see how we do it...it's going to be good, it's going to be real good.

Exercise Anyone?

Happy New Year, 2015 is here & it's time to get the show on the road.  And by show I mean get my dead arse off of the sofa and get back to exercising.  Now friends, I am 45 and although I proclaim to be trapped in a 30 year old woman's body, it is NOT in the condition of an actual 30 year old woman.  

Gravity has taken over and there is no going back...although how cool would that be, just rolling that shite up and stuffing it back into its original place?  

 Jumping rope, an excellent workout: quick, convenient & minimal skill needed (especially if done in the comfort of your own home as no one would be around to see you make a total jackarse of yourself - i.e. tangled in the rope, tripping, falling on your face, unable to jump more than twice consecutively...not that I've done any of THAT!).

But there is the issue of the peri-menopausal woman...we can't freely jump rope, no matter how skilled or cardiovascularly fit we may be! Why, you may ask? Too many hot flashes, you say? Hell no, it's all about incontinence people! While I believe in the benefits of Poise pads (sorry to the 12% of dudes following this page), I do NOT want to HAVE to use them DAILY and for those of you that know my "issues" (ssssshhhh, I know there are many) I cannot hop consecutively, period, because this would be the internal monologue:

Me: (hop) Damn! (dribble)

Me: (hop) Oh shit! (dribble dribble)

Me: (hop, hop) Mother F'r! (runs to the nearest bathroom to change "shield")

And so, I can knock off "spokesperson for Poise pads" off of my list for potential jobs...

Regifting is Resourceful

Spoiler Alert:  Parental Failure

No Crap Accepted Today

...As seen via 2 Girls & A Dream....advice that is often easier said than done, but so true.  I try to instill this in my two teens (and my lovelies) this attitude - the more attention we give the "crap givers" the more crap they tend to dole out to us.  Sometimes it works for them, other times they fall into that "poor me, they're picking on me" funk.  But I'm here to snap them back into reality, as it is much easier to dole out the advice and admonitions than it is to apply it, right?

Ten years ago I was the people pleaser, little Miss Helpful.  My first teaching position had really allowed me to grow, creatively and spiritually, and I became the giver...always there to share supplies and advice.  Well, this was not accepted by the "experienced" staff members of my new school, who took my helpfulness to mean that I thought I was better and knew more.  I was often mocked & deemed an overachiever - little barbs were thrown out and eventually it wore me down - or rather I allowed it to wear me down.
 
I'd like to say that I overcame their nonsense and triumphed (she says as she marches the hallways singing "We will overcome," NOT) but I spent six (LONG) years in this (work) environment and not only did I learn (upon leaving and moving 1200 miles away) that they were not worth sacrificing my time & energy for but also that maybe they chose to bring me down because of something within them, that it really wasn't about me. But it's not as easy to see that when you are in the thick of things & my feelings were hurt, I stressed, I worried and ultimately I let my naysayers win.

I wasn't able to "see" their motives because I allowed their crap-slinging to bring me down.  I chose to entertain their nonsense and didn't ignore it...it often makes me wonder how different things would have been if I had learned to ignore and overcome.  But then I wouldn't be where I am now, physically and mentally and I am pretty damn content (happy too, but comfortable in my own skin, with the me I have become). So...

Fast forward to the present, where I attempt to only keep myself surrounded by like-minded people.  I still help but have learned to do so when it comes from MY heart, not what I believe others will want to see or hear from me.  I use humor to mask irritation, hurt & disgust.  Those that know me and know me well understand that this is just ME and isn't a lack of caring but rather caring too much - but it can be off-putting and can become an obstacle in my building relationships. Note:  I've ALWAYS been this way, using humor to mask, and that has really been a source of contention for some people...I think it is genetic, therefore incurable, so they can learn to accept or move on, right?

My pleasing is done for family & friends first and even then I am truly lacking...and the lovelies that I work so diligently to help become successful & productive citizens of our society.  As a matter of fact, I am a proponent of my lovelies to a fault & the needs of my friends and family follow behind - I'm not proud, just honest. So...

This leads to the question I posed yesterday via my Superior Nonsense FB page, "How do you see people?" This question was posed at church - we'd attended a new one, just to check it out, and I believe that we were there for a reason - simply to hear this question & reflect upon it...especially since D & K were like "mmm, we like the other church (which we've been attending for the past six months) better."

But in reflecting on this question, it made me realize that I don't spend enough time seeing the true potential in people.  I often see them through my teacher eyes: are they going to help or hinder progress.  I see complainers as hinderers and I see go-getters as helpers...yet not every body fits into these two categories and I am learning that I am short-changing them and myself from getting to know some potentially cool people.  And even then, not only am I missing out on some great friendships, but they are missing out because they don't get to know me & my kick arse-self, right?

Moral of the story:  Ignore the crap disher-outers and be true to you and what you believe in.  Oh, and hug your friends and family for putting up with your crazy arse.  Peace out my homies!

Happy Pill...the Whole Truth and Nothing But!

I make a lot of jokes about my happy pill...professionals call it Cymbalta, an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication prescribed for a variety personal issues.  My issue?  Anxiety and irritation...without it I have the shortest fuse on the block and I am emotional, yeah, a bit of a cry baby - not the greatest combination, right?

I haven't always been on an anti-depressant - just the past eleven years.  That's not to say that I didn't need something before that, but becoming a parent made it a necessity.  Sad, but true.

Becoming a parent is an emotional journey, especially when you've been trying/waiting to become one for almost ten years.  Five years of trying "naturally," a few years of tests & fertility treatments, until we came to our senses & sealed the deal with adoption.  International adoption - we had been through enough emotionally that I was not going to risk having some crackhead knocking on our door to get their kid(s) back.  Just sayin'...

I know, I am making light of a pretty emotional journey, but that's how I roll...and besides, that is not the point of this story.  So, back to the happy pill...

We'd been home from Samoa for about two months and I noticed that my patience level had become non-existent.  I was wound tight and for once in a very long time, had no real reason to feel that way.  My family was complete - awesome husband, two beautiful little girls and two very loyal springer spaniels...we'd even just moved into a new home that completed our 21st Century nuclear family.  So why so anxious?  Why so emotional?  Was I just an ungrateful bee-otch that didn't know how to appreciate her awesome life?

Well, did you know that a woman can put their body into post-partum depression without giving birth?  Yeah, me neither.  But apparently I am pretty damn special and that's exactly what my doctor felt was happening to me and my snarky, quick to snap self.  She said that the sudden change from no kids to two kids who only wanted ME (the girls were not accustomed to men) was enough to kick the hormones into overdrive, creating an imbalance.  It also does not help that I was genetically pre-destined for this nonsense...depression, to varying degrees, runs deep in my family, so honestly, it was inevitable.  And to say that my life had changed would be an understatement.

I had gone from a married woman/teacher who could come and go as she pleased...to a mother who was married and taught for a living.  I couldn't go anywhere without hearing "mommy" or feeling somebody poking or squeezing me, wanting something, if not food, just a snuggle.  And now that I type this I feel a little bit of guilt because it was what I'd always wanted...but damn, so much so soon?

So back to the pill...the doctor hooked me up with an anti-depressant and two weeks later, I was a calm, cool collected mama on summer break.  I felt better - even keeled, chill, going with the flow and loving my new life.  After a couple of months I had to go in for a check-up and D went with me...the doctor (military docs so it was my first visit with him) looked at D and said, "What do you think?  She needs it?  Do you notice a difference?"  Now this was over ten years ago so I don't recall exactly what D said but it was along the lines of "it works, keep it coming Doc."  Yeah, well that was certainly confirmation that my nonsense was being taken care of thanks to the miracle of modern medicine.

Now I've tried, over the years, to take a break from the happy pill, but to no avail - this chemical imbalance nonsense that turns me into a cry baby bee-otch is here for good folks.  The longest I've gone without it is one year and hmm, it was interesting to say the least.  The mood swings were nuts - I went from laughing, happy go lucky to getting my feelings hurt over nonsense that would normally crack me up.  The final straw was when we attempted to move to Wisconsin and it did not work out -- the crying jags, oh the freaking crying jags, even I couldn't stand me!  So, back to the doctor (it was time for the annual poke & prod anyway) and back to NORMAL.

But I don't always learn the first time, so I tried it again last year...yeah, two weeks and when I broke down in tears because I couldn't concentrate long enough to dial the number to the doctor and then when I do get through I get the voice mail...let's just say they got me in the next day and we were all (including my work colleagues) singing Hallelujah and speaking in tongues.  Okay, not really, but all was right in the world, again, and for that I am thankful.

So fast forward to today, where I realized, quickly, that I had not taken my pill last night.  Now one would not think that 24 hours without it would make a difference.  Hmm, yeah, right.  For me, it's as if I am instantaneously blanketed in a serious case of adult ADHD...full on with the lack of focus, giggles, and the incessant need to move.  If I were a stay-at-home mom this might not be that big of a deal.  But I am attempting to educate the masses my dear friends and if a teacher needs one thing it is focus and control...

Point in case:  We are neck deep in test prep and standards review. The lovelies have been reading passages and answering questions, using test taking strategies that we've been doing all year long.  No biggy, right?  Well, it is when you begin to read & review the passage with your students and realize that even YOU are bored to tears.  Here is where I confirmed, that I had not taken my pill:

Question 5 asks:  Which word would describe Blobbity Blob (can't recall her name, that is how disengaged I was from this reading passage):
a) interesting
b)deceitful
c)shy
d)merciful

Lots of vocabulary discussion ensued and we narrowed it down to a & b...and in full-on teacher mode I say "well, she was a spy, so she was not very honest or trustworthy, therefore she was deceitful. But on the other hand she led a pretty interesting life so I can see where someone would choose "interesting."  Now folks, this is where I SHOULD have reiterated the character and her actions so they'd clearly understand she was deceitful.  But nope, that's not what happened...instead I continue discussing "interesting" and proceed to say "Now, I think she was pretty interesting, I'd probably want to read more about her.  Well, no, that's a lie, I don't think she was that interesting and besides...she's dead."  Yes, that is EXACTLY what I said...WTH, right?

And this is where I lost it - I couldn't stop giggling because I knew that I had truly lost it.  I'd even said, out loud, "Hmm, what's wrong with me today?  I should have kept that in my head!"  And because I'd realized, quickly, why I was so goofy, I embraced it and the rest of the day went off without a hitch - at least in my opinion....and I promise, I will take my happy pill (+ vitamin D) tonight and all will be right in the world of educating my lovelies.

BTW - My morning lessons are normally repeated for my afternoon group but due to MY morning shenanigans, I spared the group my personal views on Blobbity Blob (Belle something or other) and opted for a more low key afternoon.  So yes, I do learn from my mistakes, sometimes;-)

There are two things that I really cannot tolerate in life, as in "I am scared sh$tless and I am going to run and scream like a five year old girl" intolerance: snakes and mice.  Now, where we reside, snakes very rarely get into your home, therefore not much to worry about there.  But mice, yeah, frequent visitors in the winter - we live in a somewhat rural area and when they cut the corn fields, BAM, Mickey and all of his freaking pals try to sneak into our house for food & shelter.  And by sneaking I mean practically opening up the front door and shouting (in their best Ricky Ricardo voice) "Hey Lucy, I'm HOOOOMMME!"  

We had a particularly bad year, about four years ago, where the little bastards thought they were going to move their entire family (and we all know how quickly they procreate) into our home, via the pantry & fire place.  D was out of town, work related, and the girls and I were holding down the proverbial fort and the little shit droppers were literally storming the home front.  It was a Friday, as I clearly remember because D was coming home the next day.  I opened the pantry and to my surprise (and apparently the Fieval raiding my pantry) one of the nasty buggers jumped out at me and as I belted out a blood curdling scream, ran behind the fridge.  Panting like I had just run a marathon (or around the block, same difference), the girls and I ran to the car and abandoned the house...for school.  I promised myself if those little buggers were going to invade my home they had another thing coming...sticky traps (cue ominous background music) and many of them.  

Now we had tried a variety of trapping devices in the past, my favorite being the little electric box - the crafty critters were lured into the box by the wafting fragrance of peanut buttery goodness and when they stepped closer they stepped onto a metal plate which ZZZZZAAAAAPPPPed the life out of them.  It was awesome - no mess, no screaming, no blood (I'm sure there was but D took care of that nonsense).  But a year later, after our influx of rampaging rodents shorted out our trap, we sadly learned that Lowe's was no long carrying them.  Argh, this meant we had to go one of three routes:  Poison (nope, they die in the walls & stink to high heaven), Traditional with bait (nope, too easy for them to get the peanut butter and they were bloody by nature) or sticky traps.  

So you see, I really had no choice but to line my baseboards with the infamous torture devices. Mind you, I considered them torturous and I'd shunned them because I'd heard that the trapped/stuck mouse will emit an ear piercing scream.  Hmm, no thank you - that's all I need is to have that nonsense replaying in my head!  But I had reached my breaking point folks and having mouse after mouse mock me, laughing in my scared to death face caused me to jump on the "Last Resort" train and not turn back. 

Note:  Upon arriving home after a day at school, totally forgetting the morning mouse incident, I walked right into our kitchen only to have another freaking mouse run out from under the pantry door (apparently my pantry was the "happening place" for these bastards and their wicked friends), right past me and behind the fridge (again).  I screamed and told the girls to get back in the car, we were going to Lowe's - all the while wondering if it would just be easier to pack a bag and go to the damn Hampton Inn for the night!

Traps were purchased, dinner brought home in a paper bag that may or may not have had golden arches and we were ready to chill out for the night.  Little did we know that we were going to have an influx (no exaggeration) of mice scampering their shitty little arses along the living room walls.  All it took was one scurrying past, bypassing my ONE trap, and I quickly devised a plan:  big bottle of wine, myself and fed children in pj's on the couch and sticky trapS strategically planted along the based boards of the living room...and BAM, Friday night's entertainment, a homespun extermination experiment, was up and running.

 

Now my dear hearts, this was four years ago and I was under the influence, but I do know that we snagged at least three of those sneaky little buggers and threw them out into the cold night air (yes, trap and all), where D would be home the next day to take them to their final resting place.  C & I screamed every time one raced out and K giggled with glee as she knew IT would be meeting an untimely demise.  K was also the brave soldier to scoop the trap (with mouse) onto a dustpan and toss them out the door.  I should be ashamed to admit that, because she was only eight years old at the time, but hell, someone had to do it, right?  And who am I to strip my child of such obvious joy?  Heck, she even talked to the little arseholes as she took them outside...hmm, what does that say about my kid?  Pfft, just another one of my parenting wonders, right?

We woke the next morning and decided that the majority of the day would be spent upstairs...as the little buggers and buggerettes had yet to journey to the second floor.  But a unanimous decision was made: if we saw any more mice we'd leave a note for D informing him that he could find us at the Hampton Inn.  We had displayed immense bravery the night before but we were officially tapped out. 

Lucky for D & us, all went well and he eventually took care of the mice situation...poison that dehydrates the mice, thrown under the house and kept in the garage for those that snuck in for a quick munch.  Fast forward four years and we now own Frappe', a 1 1/2 year old cat that we adopted from the SPCA after I saw a mouse, dead on a sticky trap, in our front closet.  She has kept us mouse free and now insect free - certainly earning her keep, more than I can say for the teens, but that's another story for another day.

BTW:  The mice don't scream, but rather emit a high pitched squeak...that is, when they aren't trying to gnaw their own leg off to "release" themselves from the trap.  Stubborn little bastards.

Guilt Schmilt

What would it be like to never live with regret?  To never worry about making the right decision and how it would affect others?  I'm certainly not the one to ask because I feel guilty all of the time.  For big things and little things and things that should not even matter - it's all about questioning myself, not being confident in decisions that I have made.  But why?  I know that I come off as very confident, self-assured, and definitely capable of handling a wide variety of nonsense - and many times this confidence is interpreted as being a bee-otch.  So be it, right?

I once asked my husband if I came across as someone that thinks they are better than others...he paused.  Yes, paused, WTH was that about?! Well, if he didn't agree you know darn well his silly self would have said "oh no, honey, you're just self-assured."  But not only did he pause, he proceeded to say "Yeah, pretty much, but it's okay, you're just particular."  Wow, particular?  I don't about you, but I would say that's a great vocabulary word  for "picky."

Now this really should not come as a surprise since my Grammy and Grandpa G used to call me Picky Nikki - no lie and sometimes it was Nickle Pickle (hmm, this must be where I get my love of rhyming, but that's another story for another time).  If I wasn't picky, as in particular about what I ate or wore, I was picky in the respect that I "picked" at others.  If you had lint on your shirt, a hair out of place or a boogie hanging from your nose, I'd be the first to bring it to your attention.  Lucky for me I saved this not so redeeming character trait for my family members - good thing or I'd probably never have had a damn friend throughout my childhood!

I'd like to think that this "picking" was because I was becoming a detail oriented person, something that would be necessary in my future profession as a hairstylist (yes, that was my major career goal from the 6th grade on).  But why did that lint on your shirt or that "bat in the cave (my absolute favorite reference to boogies in the nose) bother me so much?  And even worse, why did I feel that persistent need to share it?  And even better, let's wonder why I didn't turn this constant "picking" onto myself.  I promise you that if I had I would have been a textbook case of OCD, taking perfection to a whole new level.

So fast forward 30+ years - do I really think that I am better than others?  Hmm, no...but I would like to see others step up and live/work to his or her full-potential.  Is that wrong?  I'll be honest with you: the poor choices of others, laziness in general and disrespect towards others drive me NUTS.  But who am I to judge if you've chosen to wear your pj's to Walmart (another place that I despise, but I will not waste key strokes on that nonsensical place), or you come to work unprepared and disorganized?  If your nonsense doesn't affect me, why do I care?  

I'll be honest, my best guess is this: if I focus on your issues, I can ignore my own.  So it's time to change (yes, I am hearing Peter Brady singing in his puberty stricken voice) my friends, time to focus on making the best ME - not just for me, but for my family.  Because a better me will share, not pick.  A better, kinder me will exude positivity (how's that for some sappy nonsense?) and it will be contagious.  People will be singing from the rooftops, smiling at strangers, completing random acts of kindness like there is no tomorrow...Okay, now I'm just cracking myself up, because I am a realist and while I can work on not being so "picky," I don't think that I'm ready for that much change...not only do I not have the motivation to become Polly Positive 100% of the time, but I kind of like ME - picky, judgmental, sassy and witty.

But I can work on keeping some of my comments to myself.  I am sure that dropping my "picking" habit will not be easy, nor will it be fun.  I mean, when I see someone with dragon talons for toenails, kicking it in flip flops, I will literally have to bite my tongue to NOT share this nonsense with someone, ...seriously, that's some funny stuff and how can I not share it?  Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought...

Oops, I Think I Made a Mistake...

Happy Sunday and hello to the eve of the work week.  I have had a wonderful week filled with family and relaxation - both over due and just what the proverbial doctor ordered!  And during this time of peace and tranquility (with a wee bit of retail therapy) I've been able to think, re-think, and come to a conclusion that has been difficult to admit but necessary...for the sake of my sanity.  Don't get me wrong, I embrace my inner crazy (normal is boring, in my honest opinion), but not to the point where my inner crazy becomes an all encompassing, full-time ready for the loony bin crazy.  We all have limits.

First of all, the first step in handling a problem is admitting that you actually have a problem - and obviously I do have a wee bit of a problem.  I am the type of person that embraces change, especially when it comes to professional growth...and moving, I love to move to new places...but that's not what we're talking about here.  Now when I say I embrace change, I'm not talking about tiny little changes like tasting new foods (not too daring in this department) or trying out a new haircut (too daring in this department).  We're talking whoppers, huge changes that have lasting effects on not only myself, but my family as well. I mean, what the hell, go big or go home, right?

So, in the last post I mentioned my new job, media coordinator.  Now THAT has been a change, a change that has certainly affected myself & my poor family.  Poor family?  Yes, my poor family are always subjected to my schemes.  In retrospect I should have been a  lawyer (or a sales person, but the former sounds more lucrative) because I can plead my case, no matter how foolish or spontaneous it may be, swaying my audience (family and close friends) to go along with my whackadoo ideas & opinions.  I am grateful that they believe in me enough to support me but I'm thinking that maybe I need to tone down my enthusiasm a bit and let them truly give me their opinion.  After sharing my "hard sell" tactic, I always ask "What do you think?" and they usually respond with 'sounds great' or 'you'll be great at whatever you do.'  Hmm...how have I never noticed that they always tell me what I WANT to hear?!  Wow, I am slow on the draw - I have become one of those people where others tell me what I want to hear so I will SHUT UP!!  (head in hands, shaking my head).

D says that I suffer from "the grass is always greener" syndrome - see new fabulous vocabulary word below as it totally describes my true issue, just saying.  But before I explain his theory, let me clarify one thing: my "changes" are always work related.  I love dear D and my girls and really work diligently to make sure that my schemes are really only going to affect me...but I'm not always so successful with that since I can be a touch dramatic...not Academy Award winning dramatic, but enough where my emotions can  cause my family to ask "Have you taken your happy pill?" or "Could you take another?"  So, when I came home saying "Hey, our school needs a new media coordinator and I think I would LOVE that job," they didn't know what to say except 'okay (mom/honey), you'd be a great librarian.'  No questions, no "are you sure?"

Long story short: I interview, I'm offered the job (with a pay cut that I minimize because I just know that I'm going to LOVE this job), I take the job...and now, fifteen days later I'm like 'WOW, this is so not me."  What?!  Yes, you read that correctly, I am not digging the new job and have formally asked to go back to the classroom.  A big ol' slice of humble pie, sliced, served and EATEN my friends.  I'm not sure if it's my age (read: wisdom) or the fact that I truly dislike the job, but I am totally comfortable with changing my mind, i.e. admitting that I was wrong.  But in my favor, I've held a job of some sort for the past 28 years, and in that time period I've only had two other jobs that I despised...an office clerk for a maritime law lawyer (HORRIBLE) and an assembly line worker in the "clean room" of a factory that packaged the toys for cereal boxes (monotonous but fun co-workers).  So, my friends, life is too short to not do something that you are passionate about and I am passionate about teaching.  Bam, simple as that...

Over due...

It has been well over a week since my last post and while I am feeling slightly guilty, I'm feeling a bit uninspired.  I think it is the extreme physical exhaustion that has taken over me.  The new job...careful what you wish for, right?  

Here's the deal, I've been a classroom teacher for thirteen years and each year has been special, unique and wonderful, all in their own way.  My first three years were idyllic...so perfect it was almost wrong.  Wrong?  Because it spoiled me - nothing has really compared since those first three fun-filled years.  But overall, they've all been filled with awesome students and their families and a ton of learning experiences - theirs and mine.  The majority of my co-workers have been pretty damn cool too...there is always an exception to the rule, but in thirteen years I can honestly say that only one could be labeled as a the straw that could always break this camel's back.  Not bad for four different schools, four different grade levels, hundreds of students and a butt-load of co-workers, right?

But the time has come to move on and I have...I am now a media coordinator, i.e. school librarian.  Librarian...not the most attractive job title is it?  Because most of us are probably envisioning a cardigan clad older woman with spectacles, knee-length skirt and comfortable shoes.  Ah shit, that is me...44 isn't a spring chicken, I do wear glasses and my most recent hair-do isn't exactly setting any trends.  And we won't even discuss the denim skirt, wiener dog blouse, and Sperry's, all worn TODAY!  Oh no, have I just left the classroom for my twilight years dream job?!  

No, because I cannot go there.  I may be in my 40's but I'd have to say that I feel younger today than I have in a long time...is it younger or just more confident?  Potato, potah-toe, who cares, right?  Now, we will not factor in the extreme exhaustion at the end of the day, the back pain and crows feet...I DO feel younger (damn it!).  Who cares that I am now willingly taking supplements, drink a bazillion ounces of water (which means I don't sleep through the night!) and have a green smoothie for breakfast every morning (with flax seed to make me, you know, regular)?  Heck, I'd have done all of that at age 23, if it would have been popular.  

Aww, who am I fooling?  Aging is not fun, it is not easy, but the wisdom that I've gained throughout the years...totally worth it.  Now, time to hit the sack or this old girl will not get to read her book before she nods off;-)

How Can Something So Easy Become So Difficult?

Two years into our marriage I decided that it was time to have a baby.  I had a timeline that needed to be adhered to:  pregnant at 25 and 30, two kids, preferably boys, and all would be as planned.  I'd planned on breast feeding, cloth diapers, and I'd make my own baby food...to hell with Gerber's and their nonsense, I'd be whipping up my own puree'd veggies and rice.

Scrreeeeech, put on the brakes...apparently getting pregnant wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed.  No wham bam thank you ma'am would be happening in our household.  Nope, we'd be the couple that would be keeping a calendar of body temps, scheduling the "right" time to knock boots, and going to the doctor to check the quality of my bodily fluids.  How could something, pregnancy, be so scientific, so difficult, when teenagers across the nation were getting knocked up without "trying," much less wanting.

Long story short, it became my obsession, to get pregnant and have a baby that was part of me, part of D.  Nothing else would be acceptable.  We had the test where they shot dye through my Fallopian tubes - this is where I learned that I had a very mild case of endometriosis (which was later cauterized and the tubes were healthy and clear) and according to the German radiologist that was reading my x-ray...'when you feel mittleschmerz (German for ovulation pain/cramping) on the right, that is when you DO IT.'  Wow, how's that for a bedside manner?  Needless to say, it was not going to be so simple...

Pregnancy was like the unicorn in the forest for me or the infamous Elvis sightings...possible (although the odds were 50/50) but never to be a reality.  Honestly, the more hoops we jumped through to obtain the (in our case) obtainable, the more I became like a disgruntled postal worker rather than a maternal maven.  Why me?  Why us?  We were a great couple with the emotional and financial means to raise a child - so why was this not meant to be?  Prayer, vitamins, exercise, diet, bum propped up with a pillow, etc.  But I couldn't give up, I could not admit to failure.

Intrauterine insemination - this was our method of choice.  This means that the swimmers get washed in a protein solution and are then injected into one's uterus - pretty much a no brainer for those wayward swimmers.  But your swimmers do need to be plentiful and strong to break through my stubborn egg(s)...yeah, go figure, eggs as tough as their creator, not cool my friends, not cool at all.  This process included hormone shots, multiple trips to the doctor for blood tests (yeah, not fun in normal circumstances, but add to this that I have crap veins - deep & they like to roll, of course) and the vaginal ultrasounds to check out your eggs...hmm, I wish I could have seen the look on my own face when they pulled out the "wand" and rolled a condom on it, complete with K-Y jelly.  I'm sure I was thinking "yikes, what the hell are they going to do with that?!"  Yes, this had become quite the educational experience, lol.  But it all seemed like it would be worth it...

That is, until I had to miss my grandmother's funeral due to hyper-stimulated ovaries - travel was out of the question because I was walking around with the proverbial basket full of eggs (nine to be exact) and if any of them were to burst they could fill my lungs with fluid, giving me instant pneumonia.  This was the emotional straw that broke this camel's back...not having the opportunity to say good bye to my Grammy AND no pregnancy (which would be confirmed three weeks later) and I'd decided to jump off of the emotional roller coaster called fertility treatments.  Hormonal beyond compare, I could not take the repeated failures anymore.  So, we just stopped.  Just like that - cold turkey, no more rushing to the doctor in Virginia, no more shots in my hips and arms, no more nasty prenatal vitamins, and no more counting days on the calendar, filled with false hope that "this time it has to work."

The decision to stop was liberating but heartbreaking - I'd had us investing so much time, money and emotions towards becoming parents and now we'd be giving up the dream.  Or would we?  We still wanted to become parents, we would just need to move on to plan B, adoption.   And that my friends, is another story for another evening.