Evan's Birthday Party!

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Happy Birthday Sister!

Today is my sister Taresa's birthday and in honor of her I will write a post about her.

Taresa is number 2 of 8 and I am number 8. During my early childhood she was like a mother to me. She was always there to take care of me and to entertain me. I can remember screaming her name when I needed help wiping my butt (he, he)... one of the things I am sure she enjoyed as her older sister "duties". Thanks sis! I remember asking her which step to do first butter the bread or put it in the toaster. She was amazed at my bagel sandwich making capabilities.

She was the first sister to get married and I was the flower girl in her wedding. She introduced me to my first love interest, her ring-bearer, and I remember how special I felt getting to stay up late and dance with him at her reception.

I remember visiting Taresa as she work as a waitress at my favorite little restaurant, Annie's Pot. They had the best breadsticks with cheese sauce and pumpkin pie a kindergartener could ask for. It was so fun seeing my sister and having her be the one who brought me my favorite treats.

She was also the first sister to have a child. I remember the school secretary coming in and telling me that I had a nephew when I was almost 6 years old. I recall thinking, "What the heck is a nephew?!" He and I spent a lot of time playing together before his father taught him to say "Be Boo" which meant that I was to leave him alone.

When I was in grade school and often left there after school hours by my mother,  it was Taresa that often went out of her way to pick me up. She took me to her house and fed me dinner. I remember drinking whole milk with dinner, eating cookies, and trying to feed the horses that came to her backyard.

As the years went on and with our age difference I guess I kind of thought that she would always hold that position as a motherly figure to me. But as I grew up our lives became more similar... we both were going to college at the same time; we were both pregnant within the same few years, etc.

She is one of the few sisters that have ever come to visit me since I have grown up and left Michigan. It was so much fun when she came to visit me a few summers ago and I got to share my life, as a grown up, with her.

When our father died, it was her house that I spent a lot of time at being comforted by her. Her house always feels like home to me!

I feel so blessed to have a sister that has been not only a "mother" to me but also a sister and friend. I find our conversations comforting and often call her for advice. So dearest sister... I hope you have a wonderful birthday! You deserve it! I love you and miss you!!!!!!

2009 our year in review

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Merry Christmas 2009

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Evan

This boy continues to crack me up! He is 5 years old and has a serious sense of style... not one I always agree with, but his own sense of style none-the-less.

His older brother still lets me pick out his clothes and really doesn't care what he wears or what he looks like... as long as it is warm enough and not itchy!

Evan has gone through many phases or should I say trends in his clothing. For a while there he ONLY wore pajamas... all the time! I let him, I figured he could only get away with that for so long and he did have some real cool pjs. Oh, then there were the infamous pumpkin pants! I bought some black leggings (yes, I think they were girl's pants) from a second hand store... they were covered in little pumpkins and I knew Evan would love them. I had no idea he would wear them year round! Yup, that was my son you saw in the tie-dyed shirt and the pumpkin leggings, looking like Mikhail Barishnikov, you know like a man in tights.

Recently he has become very opinionated with his hairstyle. He wants a mohawk or a spike or just lay it down flat kind of style. He LOVES to use my blow dryer and style his hair... it is so cute!

Yesterday morning, after his shower, he told me that he wanted to look like Luke, from the Drake and Josh Christmas episode. I had no idea what this character looked like and didn't really understand when Evan said he wanted three spikes, so I googled him. I foung the character, whose real name is Devon and showed Evan this picture of him. "Yup, that is what I want to look like!" We used the picture found here and gave Evan the look... http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1299548416/nm1984458

I thought it was so funny that later in the day he was willing to give up riding his dirt bike because he didn't want his helmet to mess up his hair. Then he was thankful when the misty weather took care of the problem for him. He is so handsome!

Boys

As I have said previously, I come from a family of 8 girls. God has blessed me with 2 boys... and a very manly husband. The boys are now 9 and almost 6 and up until now it has been pretty easy. Ok, so we play with more legos and swords than girly stuff but I can handle that, no problem! Recently my husband went dirt bike riding with one of his buddies and that is where it all began...

Evidently, my husband grew up riding small motorcycle/dirt bike thingys. When I was a little girl I had a bicycle but I went to dance class and with an lawyer for a father I was strictly forbidden to ride a motorcycle of any sort.

After Travis' joy ride a few months ago I have heard about nothing but dirt bikes. So after even more talk and an argument or two we became the proud (?) owners of a Yamaha WR450. Travis was, and still is, thrilled!

After a few more weeks, Travis began talking about getting a bike for the boys. I wasn't too sure how I felt about this but after we got one, after seeing him teach them (very well, might I add) how to ride it, and after seeing their faces after the riding... priceless.

Yes, we do need to get more gear... they are only wearing their bike helmets for now, but they aren't going too fast. And yes, I did threaten them that if I ever even see them sitting on one of these without a helmet, they will never be able to ride it again.  ;)

7 of 8

I don't know if you realized this but I have 7 sisters. Yup, that was NOT a typo, I grew up with 7 amazing, beautiful, inspirational, OLDER sisters! (Come on girls, you knew that was coming). I am the baby or 8 of 8.
I recently turned 31 and I have vowed to never feel old because I will always be "the baby"... or at least my sisters (and my husband) will always be older than me.

One of my sisters recently had a birthday and I meant to publish a blog for her on her birthday, but life got in the way somehow... so here I am, a few days late... but here's to you, Jess!

My sister Jessica is just about 2 years older than me. Growing up I always had my eye on her. She was beautiful. She was intelligent. She was confident. (She still is all those things, too!) I wished I could be her! I often wished to be a fly on the wall and see what went on in that secret life that I, as her younger, annoying sister was forbidden to know.

Now we are all grown up and Jessica is a nurse. She works in the pediatric ICU. I went back to school 3 1/2 years ago and couldn't decide what I should be when I grew up... I'm not entirely sure I will ever grow up, but that's another story. Jessica suggested I become a nurse... How could I do that? She is a nurse, she is smart... how could I become what she is? Well, I have always wanted to do something in the medical field and after some thought I decided nursing would be a good fit for me.

Fast forward to the present time... here I am with only 2 quarters left in nursing school. I LOVE IT! I find an amazing connection with my sister Jessica each time I put on my scrubs, write a care plan, or talk with a patient. I imagine her in her own nursing career and I somehow connect with her caring spirit. Sometimes when I speak I hear her voice, I mean sisters sound a like and all, but I sometimes say things that are in the same phrasing and tone as she would say them... it's wierd.

Now that we are adults I have a stronger relationship with Jessica. I still admire her... she can plan a party like nobody's business and she is still super smart. She is always there for me, offering her words of wisdom and the affectionate smack in the head that I need to keep me going not only in nursing school but in life in general.

I LOVE YOU, SISTER!!!!! I hope you had an amazing birthday... you deserve nothing but the best!

Smile

For as long as I can remember I have not liked my smile. Perhaps it is because, for one reason or another, I did not receive my retainer after my braces and so my teeth shifted slightly. I have always longed for them to be as straight as my sisters... sigh. Or, perhaps it is because of that comment a former co-worker made about me having "vampire teeth", although given all of the recent vampire hipe one would think I would consider this my best asset. Maybe I should contact Stephanie Meyer, after all the least she could do is feature me as one of the Volturi or something.

Anyway, where were we... oh yeah, me smiling... not so good. My smile tends to be abit forced in pictures. In real life, when I am laughing, I smile so hard that my eyes are nearly invisible and I get a little wrinkle in my nose. I know... I have self-esteem issues.

I started a new job over the summer and EVERYONE there is always commenting on how I always have a smile on my face. One of the women from the cafeteria is very, uh, erm, passionate (?) about my smile. Each time I see her she comments on how wonderful my smile is and how I must make all the patients feel better with my wonderful smile. I'll admit, her compliments make me smile... nervously... and they kinda creep me out at the same time.

Well, the other day, it happened to be the day before Thanksgiving, I braved the grocery store. I think this is the worst day to grocery shop ever, but I only had to get a few of those last-minute ingredients so it wasn't too bad. While I was over by the dairy case the area was quite congested with shoppers, carts, and people in general. I was trying to go one direction and a little-old-man was attempting to go the other way. He sort of cut me off, well I mean, in grocery store etiquette I believe I had the right of way... yes my husband is a cop, so everything in life relates to traffic. In this case, let's just say, the older gentleman nearly caused a collision. He was so adorable though; I didn't hold it against him. He even apologized as he passed in front of me, all slumped over, with his pants up to his chest. I smiled, and said, "Oh, that's ok!" and I meant it. He was so adorable!

I proceeded with my shopping, contemplating which sour cream was the best buy when I see the same man out of the corner of my eye. I look up and see that he had turned around to come back and talk to me. He says, "Thank you so much for your smile! Not enough people in today's day and age smile and you have such a beautiful smile!" I thanked him... smiling, of course, as we conversed briefly about how he dared to brave the crowds to shop. He wished my a happy holiday and we said good-bye.

We both went our separate ways and somehow met up again while we were putting our carts away. I smiled and said, "We finished at the same time!" He smiled back, thanked me for smiling again, and wished me a happy holiday again.

I made it to my car and noticed as I was driving away that he was walking back and forth in the parking lot, trying to remember where he parked. Oh no, I thought... and then I did what any logical person would do... I followed him, secretly, an aisle away... just to make sure he found his car. He did... YAY! and I went home... smiling.

Sleep... does such a thing exist?

Let me start this entry by reminding you that I am a mother of two young boys. In our house, with our crazy schedules we always have a musical bed thing going on... musical as in musical chairs, randoming shuffling about from one location to another.

As a mother I have always felt a bit of guilt for trying to get my children to sleep in their beds by themselves. How could I say, "No I am going to sleep in my bed with Daddy while you sleep all alone." How is that fair? I know I am a total push-over, but seriously, when you have that little, sad face looking up at you, telling you about their bad dream and the scarey monster... how can you say, "Go to bed all alone while I have your father to protect me from such evil things."??? Also, my husband works a varying shift; his schedule changes all the time so often times my bed is empty. In these times, especially, I welcome the warm bodies of my boys to keep me safe and help me sleep.

Some time after my second child was born I started letting my boys sleep together in either one of their rooms. They both have full size beds and it just seemed fair in regards to the argument about me sleeping with their Daddy, they could sleep with each other. They sleep together each and every night. It is so cute when I find them in their rooms all snuggled up with one another. Many nights, despite my husband's schedule, the boys make that middle-of-the-night trek into our bed. When this happens on the nights when my husband is home and is sleeping in our bed, this makes for cramped quarters. Two adults + two children in a queen size bed = not a good combo. On these nights I will sleep for a little while, wake up with a foot or some other body part on my head, and decide to make the shift to their bedroom... musical beds begins.

There are also those nights when the children wake me up because they've had a bad dream, or when they have to use the bathroom, or they have a tummy ache, or (insert your favorite reason to wake an exhausted mother here).

If the children are not the culprits to interrupting my slumber it's the dog. We have the sweetest 5 year old mutt anyone could ever hope for. She loves to sleep in our room, although we were smart with this dog and did not allow her the privilege of sleeping in our bed. Besides with up to four people in there at one time, there simply is no room for a dog too! Sometimes, our Honey dog gets her schedule confused. You see, she falls victim to my husband's crazy work schedule too. When he comes home at say 3 in the morning, he lets her out establishing a pattern of the 3am potty break. Well, inevitably his schedule changes and it has done so without anyone consulting the dog. On such nights Honey dog will wake-up, need to be let out, and come to wake me up. At first, it starts out as a simple whine, the kind that wakes you up just enough to hope someone else hears this and will let the dog out. Of course that never happens and eventually she is loudly begging me in a sound something like, "OWR, HMMM, OWRRR, OUWRRR, ARRRR, #@%&!" and that is when I get up to let the dog out. At times like these I am gumbling and complaining all the way down the stairs but then praise her for not pottying in the house. None-the-less, I have been awakened from my much needed slumber.

Ok, so if it's not the kids, and it's not the dogs, it is, dare I say it, the husband. He will come in at some un-Godly hour, home from work and crash, boom, bang as he changes his clothes or brushes his teeth or whatever it is that he does while I am trying to sleep. Can't anyone see that I am exhausted, here?!

There is rarely a night when I get a full, uniterupted sleep. Even on these nights my crazy life takes over. I wake up from the children, the dog, the husband, or perhaps because I am ready to get up, or the sun is shinning and the thoughts start... What day is it? Do I have school? Am I late? What time is it? Where is my husband?... did he make it home from work? Am I supposed to be somewhere? Do I have a babysitter? Did the kids miss the bus? Am I late for carpool? Do I have time to take a shower?

It is precisly at such times as these that I recognize my need for a white board. We have these at the hospital... a simple dry erase board in each room telling the patient the date and names of the people caring for them. We also post things such as goals for the day, anticipated discharge, and questions to be addressed. In certain cases, with confused/demented patients we post the re-orientation information such as, you are Such-and-Such Hospital.

My white board would say: "Your name is Rebecca. You have two children, a husband, and a dog (anyone else you find in your house should most likely not be there). It is such and such day of the week... today your activities are (insert school, work, miscellaneous) at this time. Get up!" Hmmm... actually I think I'd like it to read a little nicer... perhaps it would say, "Good morning sunshine!" or "Wakey, wakey eggs-n-bakey". In my dreams it reads, "You have nothing at all to do today, sleep until you are totally and completely refreshed!"

Here We Go...

I started my final year of nursing school this week. Initially I was so excited, partly because the end is even more in sight, and partly because of my new found confidence I owe to my summer nursing tech experience.

My first day of class went well on Monday. After class and ever since then it has been a little rough. I will try to be brief here...

After class on Monday I was planning to exercise. There is this women's boot camp program that I was planning on starting and was on my way there. I noticed my gas light on and stopped to fill up but there wasn't an attendant at the window. I had to pre-pay and with no one to hand my money off to I couldn't get gas. I left figuring I'd stop again after boot camp. So, here I am on my way to get my fitness on when... putt, putt, putt... my car runs out of gas on the side of the road. Are you freaking kidding me?

Now, I am sure everyone (almost everyone... some people) have run out of gas before... no big deal, right? Well the case is not so when you drive a Jaguar. Even though it is a 2005 and was as affordable as a Kia, people see you on the side of the road and think you are an absolute moron for driving a luxury car and what... don't you have enough money to put gas in the tank! The situation was not made any better by my two young children in the car reminding me how I should've gotten gas at that station, yadda, yadda, yadda. My husband wasn't answering his cell phone, insert extreme frustration and humiliation... oh, did I mention that this is the second time in my 4 months of owning this car that this has happened to me? Last time I was in the drive-thru line at a coffee shop. (I blamed that one on my lack of caffeine!)

Ok, so I manage to be saved by my heroic, gas-can-hauling husband. I drive immediately to the gas station without passing go or collecting $200 and despite my kids' numerous attempts to get me to stop at every fast food joint along the way. When I get home my husband and I begin our daily chat/time to catch up. He starts by telling me that he thinks our 5 year old is depressed. Can I say it again... Are you freaking kidding me?
Evidently our youngest son said something to the effect of drawing a picture of his life... insert big, sad, angry face drawing here. Oh my goodness... I just started school... I don't have energy for this... what the heck.
I cry, mope, fall asleep on the couch. I wake up in a mad rage yelling at my husband. I scream, "Mean dye! Mean dye!" My husband asks me what the hell I am talking about and I spell the word, "D-Y-E" (not to be confused with its morbid cousin D-I-E). I don't know the exact thought process going on in my head although I do remember feeling frustrated that the overhead light was shinning brightly into my REM twitching eyes.

The next day I wake up, get the kids off to school, and come back to chill a bit since I didn't have class. I feel guilty as I reminisce about how I had post partum depression when my younger son was born. I had gone to the doctor at that time to discuss medications and he recommended that I quit breastfeeding and take an anti-depressant. I couldn't do it... I was an Olympic Champion breastfeeder... how could I quit just for the baby blues? (Now when I say Olympic Champion breastfeeder I mean it. I could have easily solved starvation problems in third world countries, if not in the third world itself.) So now the image I have running through my head is one of toxic breastmilk, posioned with some serratonin sucking virus... I figured (as any rational person would've) that because I chose to breastfeed my son in my state of depression I must have fed him something that depleted his serratonin source and after 4 years, we were just now starting to see the effects. Nevermind the fact that our schedules all just got super-uber crazy. He is in kindergarten, I am in school, my husband's schedule just flipped from days to nights... NOPE, it was my toxic breastmilk.

Ok, so I am feeling a bit crappy, to say the least, when I log into facebook and see the status of my friends. I notice one of my sisters' status updates... Happy Birthday Dad! Oh shit! Yep, today would've been his 79th birthday. I didn't even realize that it was September 22. Ugh! I start crying, bawling, and looking at the picture slideshow we created of his life. Insert more tears, sobbing, bawling... I am instantly catapulted back to 2007. The year he died, one week after his 77th birthday. That year I tried to call him three times to wish him a happy birthday but never got in touch with him. When I went back to Michigan for his funeral I couldn't help but feel guilty about not sending him a birthday card, not getting in touch with him, not being able to tell him one more time just how much I loved him.

Hmmm... extreme sadness and guilt... what to do? Well, Dad would've gone to the movies; he always went to the movies. I figured in spite of it all and in honor of Dad's birthday the boys and I would celebrate with a trip to the movies. The title of the movie fit the mood of my day perfectly, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.

It's been awhile...

I haven't posted anything in quite some time, I've been so busy with school and the holidays, etc. My intent with this blog was to journal my thoughts and feelings and share some of my life experiences with my family and friends that are far away, so here goes...

Since I last posted anything Evan turned 5. We had a pretty low key birthday for him, just a family party with extended family celebrating all of the January birthdays. I also tried to make his actual birthday special. I wasn't home when he woke up, I had clinical at 6:30am that day, so I blew up a bunch of balloons and left them in the living room. I also put a special note next to the ipod remote telling him to push the play button which was all set up to play Happy Birthday. That night we had his request for dinner, chicken and mashed potatoes, and he helped me make some birthday brownies.

I love this boy so much. He is full of spunk and personality but he is my biggest challenge in life. I think God gave him to me as a child so that I could learn a few things. For one, he has his own sense of style. Today he went to school wearing a camouflage shirt with black stretch pants that have pumpkins all over them. This is so one of those choose your battles kind of things and I ususally do not have the time or energy to fight with him on this. I found out during his conferences that one of the teachers in his school (not one that teaches him) calls him pajama boy because most days at least one portion of his clothes in pajamas. Who can blame him... I'd wear my pajamas if it were socially acceptable! I'm just wondering if he will ever get to the point where he figures out that it is not. The above picture is an outfit he picked out to wear to church... yikes!

Evan keeps me on my toes. Lately I have been trying to figure out some discipline techniques with him. He likes to misbehave for me and me only; at school he is a perfect angel. I think I am too soft, I don't like to punish my children, I don't like to take things away from them but I need to figure out something because I also don't like his recent behavior. I know we will get through this rough time but I am feeling guilty for being gone at school so much. I know that this is something that will benefit my whole family in the long run but sometimes I wish I had the power to stop time for my children so I could finish growing up and figuring it all out. Life is so hectic and crazy right now but it is also an amazing journey along the way!

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

What do we do?... We swim, swim, swim!

So today I was supposed to meet with the family that was assigned to me through nursing school. I have met with them several times in the past and our visits are always on Saturday at 11:00a.m. I always call the night before just as a courtesy and reminder. When I called last night I got the machine, so I left a message asking that they would call me back. No call. I called again this morning in a bit of a panic, because today's visit (of all days) was the one that my teacher would be accompanying me on. I got the machine, left a message, called again, left a message. No call back. At that point in time I had to call my teacher and tell her not to come. I hope the family is ok, I hope I didn't do something to offend them, and I hope my teacher doesn't think I am an absolute moron. So, in keeping with my motto, I thought this video would be appropriate for today.

Mama needs a new pair of shoes...

I was eyeing a pair of shoes -Keen's calistoga maryjanes- that are rather expensive... $90. I went to a store, tried them on, left empty handed, and then scoured the internet to find them cheaper... all with no luck. Until, the other day I searched for Keens on craigslist and what do you know but someone in Seattle was selling the exact shoes in my size! She was so nice to ship them to me and was so patient to wait for my check to come in the mail.

I was having a not-so-good day today, but look what just came in the mail. They look and feel brand new and only cost me $45. I heart craigslist!!!! I think they look adorable with my striped socks. :)

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Mason has all three books by Jeff Kinney and has read them numerous times. He and I just completed his school project... a poster of a book he has read this year. I think it turned out really awesome. We are anxiously awaiting the next book, Diary of a Wimpy Kid - The Last Straw... it comes out in January.

Halloween

Despite our numerous costumes from previous years and all of the dress-up clothes in our possession, Evan decided to make up his own outfit this year. He wore the infamous pumpkin pants, which are probably from the girl's department, but I got them at a second hand shop and knew he'd like them. He also wore the black turtleneck of his SWAT costume and the red belt from his pirate suit around his head. He told everyone that he was a ninja.

Mason decided to go as a SWAT team member as that was the costume he chose this year.

They had a lot of fun, first at a local church's harvest fest and then trick-or-treating around the neighborhood.

It's official!

Uh-oh, it's official... I have a blog. WHOA!!! While I have been wanting to do this for sometime, my life is very crazy and I am not very computer savvy, so that has kept me from doing this up until now. So here goes... one small step for most people, one giant leap for me.