Picture Day

I don't have fond memories of picture days back in grade school. The braces, funny haircuts, goofy clothes. The nervous anticipation on the days leading up to it and then waiting to see how they would turn out. Would my eyes be closed? Would I have spinach in my teeth? Would I look like a dweeb? Would the disgust I was feeling for the creepy photographer guy show on my face? Dude. You really aren't funny. Find some new, less creepy lines. Ok?

If you have been following my blog, I'm sure that you have noticed a theme of self-consciousness and a lack of self-love. Needless to say, I absolutely hate to have my picture taken. I have one hanging in my living room, but it was taken when I was two...and cute. I realized recently that I should probably have one of Teddy and I together. Ugh.

I decided to bite the bullet. Pull the band-aid off in one swift motion. Face the music.

I was going to have my picture taken.

Thankfully, my lovely downstairs neighbor, Miya, is a photographer. She takes gorgeous photos. I had been eyeing her website for a while trying to get up the nerve to ask her to take some pictures of us. I shot her an email last week, and she graciously agreed to help us out. I was so nervous that I actually thought about bailing out several times. Miya and her husband, Roy, took us to the Arboretum at the University of Idaho on Saturday for a photo session. The rain held off long enough for her to take quite a few shots. It was a fairly painless experience and actually quite pleasant. Miya made us both feel comfortable and didn't use any of the creepy photographer lines that I remember from my childhood. The gallant Roy even used his shirt sleeve to wipe the rain off the bench so that we wouldn't get our bums wet. :)

I waited nervously for the next day and a half even though she told me it would be two days before I got the pictures. "Why hasn't she sent them to me, yet? I look hideous, don't I? She's afraid to show them to me. Oh no! Why did I think I could do this? Eek!"

Then yesterday, I found a CD on my door. The moment of truth had arrived. I stuck the disk into my computer and waited for them to come up. Oh...my...holy...Hannah. They were beautiful! Miya had perfectly captured our little family. I cried. (I know, I know. Surprise, surprise.) I couldn't have asked for anything better. Thank you, Miya!

If you liked these, and I know you did, check out Miya's website. http://www.miyaphotography.net/Welcome.html

I would definitely recommend her work. Aren't you about due for a family portrait? Hmm?

She also has a little Etsy shop where she sells these amazing smelling soaps that she makes and some pretty crocheted hats and scarves. Stop in for a look. http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5570309

Proud.

Teddy and I watched the results coming in on Tuesday night. With hope in our hearts and tears in our eyes, we cheered as Obama passed the 270 mark and just kept right on going.

I'm sorry I chopped off your finger...would a Dr. Pepper help?

I have crazy-ass dreams that I rarely remember after 2 minutes of being awake. Last night, though, I had a dream that disturbed me so much that it stuck with me. I chopped off my friend's finger. I am completely guilt ridden.

Maaike and I were driving somewhere in my car. Don't ask me where, because I can't remember that part. Anyway, I have a bad habit of being a total "mom" in the car even to people that aren't my kids and are more than old enough to control their own windows or keep themselves from flying through the windshield when I stop abruptly (yes, I do the "mom-arm).

Maaike must have had her fingers outside of the window (HELLO! hasn't your mom ever told you not to do that!?) because when I rolled up her window, she squeaked really loud! She stuck her hand in front of my face, a hand that only had 4 fingers on it! I had chopped the ring finger of her right hand COMPLETELY OFF! EEK! Although there was absolutely no blood, and she didn't seem to be in any pain, she did start to get a little hysterical. The thought ran through my mind that if I could just get to the gas station up the street and buy her a ginormous Dr. Pepper, everything would be ok. But I didn't voice this thought because I thought it might not sound as good out loud as it did in my brain.

Maaike insisted I turn the car around and go look for her poor finger. We got back to the spot and I jumped out of the car. Wouldn't you know it, but a guy was walking his dog along the same road and the dog had stopped to investigate the situation. It was a big dog. But, being the awesome friend that I am (let's forget for a moment that it was my fault that the finger had been amputated in the first place) I fought off the big, scary, sharp-toothed, snarling dog (ok, ok, it was a Chihuahua) and got Maaike's finger back.

After I got back in the car and handed the slobbery digit back to my white faced friend, I told her that I had a needle and thread back at my apartment and would be more than happy to reattach her finger for her. She declined the offer and ....then I woke up.

I'm not sure what happened after that, but I am sure that it ended up just fine. After all, I WAS just trying to keep her from getting too cold by rolling up her window. I'm sure that she forgave me...after the doctors sewed her finger back on. Right?

The jig is up.

Pickle lost a tooth last night. It was his eigth baby tooth that has been pulled to make room for his big grown up teeth. He had been wiggling it for several weeks, but wasn't making much progress. One of his new front teeth was coming in in front of it, and I decided last night that it was time to do some major "heave ho-ing." He let me try for a little while, but then wanted to work on it himself. I was reading to him in bed when all of a sudden, he thrust his bloody palm in front of my face and in it sat a little white baby tooth. This was the first one that he had pulled out all by himself. He was so excited!

The Tooth Fairy has been leaving him "gold" Sacajawea dollars for each tooth that he loses, but last night I had to leave him a paper dollar because I didn't have any gold ones left. He came in to my room this morning to show me his loot. He crawled up into my bed and snuggled up beside me.

"Mom...it's you, isn't it?"

Wait! What?!

"You are the Tooth Fairy, aren't you?"

Um.... "What do you mean, Pickle? What makes you say that?"

"Well. There's no such thing as fairies, Mom."

Tears welled up in my eyes. Is it really time for this talk? My little boy is just a baby. I'm not ready for him to grow up. I'm not ready for this magic to be gone. But maybe HE is.

We snuggled in bed and talked for a while. We talked about the Easter Bunny. Santa Clause.

He didn't get upset. I almost wanted him to be sad, but he acted so grown up and mature about the whole thing. I am so proud to be the mother of such an amazing young man.

At least I don't have to lie to him anymore, right?

Sigh.

Through the eyes of a child

We just got home from seeing a play that our good friend, Maaike was in. It was called "Bloody Murder" and was a fun twist on a murder mystery. It was fabulous with many twists and turns, loud gunshots, maids and nuns, and of course a countess and a general. This was T's very first play experience and at first I was concerned that he wouldn't be able to sit through two hours of play. Boy, was I ever wrong! His eyes were as wide as saucers and he sat at the edge of his seat through the entire thing. He laughed, gasped, cheered, and even chimed in, "just DIE already!" when the General took his sweet time bleeding out.

At the end, we congratulated Maaike and were ready to leave (it was nearly 10 pm), when Maaike asked if T would like to meet the actors. I would never thought of that. While I had thoroughly enjoyed myself and thought the actors were marvelous, I knew that they were students and Moscow-ites under their costumes. T on the other hand was so impressed by them. They were ACTORS! When we went backstage, he stuck out his little paw to each actor and said, "nice to meet you" like any good little fan. They spoke to him and asked him how he liked the play. At first I was a little embarrassed because he didn't say much, but then I realized that he was starstruck. He couldn't find the words to say to these people in costumes and makeup.

When we were walking to our car, he said, "MOM! I got to meet the General! And the Countess! And and and...everybody! This was the best thing in the world! Except for maybe Harry Potter. But still, it was the BEST!"

Thank you, Maaike, for making this night so special for him. :) You were amazing.

Hey.

You were in my dreams last night. I was surprised to see you there. I haven't seen you in such a long time. You were living at the Plantation. It was so much different than I remember it, with a fresh coat of paint, and flowers on the table. I have such bad memories from that place, but it wasn't the same. The maid was scrubbing the filth from the windows and shaking out the rugs. I never knew that there were so many windows there. It smelled like spring, the smell of sadness was gone. I could hear the birds chirping outside.

Your sister came in to talk to me. She told me that you were sick. Dying. Everyone was being so careful to make things easier for you. They loved you so much. When did that happen? Where have they been all this time?

Then I saw you. You looked beautiful to me. I looked in your eyes and my heart was filled with love for you. I'm sure that it was never that way before. Where did that love for you come from? We sat on the porch, our knees touching, our fingers threaded together. We didn't have to say anything, we just sat. We didn't need anything more than that.

When I woke up, I still felt that love in my heart. I carried that with me all day, like a worry stone in my pocket.

"Take three deep belly breaths, Mom."

OK, I know that I said I would post something positive every day, but that was a load of crap. At least until I'm done with this semester.

Let me start by saying, I know that this morning's drama was completely my own fault. I can't really blame it on anyone or anything else, though goodness knows I said differently this morning.

I had to write a paper for a class that was due today. Yes, I have known about it since the very first day of the semester, but in case you didn't know, my middle name is Procrastinator. Polly Procrastinator. I had to read a book (a very long book, I might add), write a 2 page summary, and then write 6 more pages connecting what we learned in this class with the story.
I wrote an outline and notes, but didn't start on the actual paper until last night. I woke up early this morning (5am) to do some more work on it. I was about 3/4 of the way done and was just going to email it to myself so that I could finish it at work this morning.
Sounds like a decent plan, right?

Wrong.

Somebody failed to inform my stupid ass computer of my genius plan.

I didn't have an Internet connection. Grrr.

I was doing some cursing (Pants! Dang! Flibbertigibbets!) and screaming and strangling my computer. Teddy came up to me and said, "Mom, you need to calm down. Take three deep belly breaths, Mom. Here, watch me."

That didn't fix my problem, but it did make me realize that while my computer sucks, my kid is freaking awesome and I love him. :)

I did get my paper done and turned in by class time this morning, with a little help from a friend...and some relaxation techniques from my wise Yoda boy.

One good thing...

I have decided to make an effort to be less negative. I find myself being whiny about stupid little things throughout the day and by doing that, I forget about all the nice things that cross my path. Nobody wants to be around a Debbie Downer.

Heck, I don't want to be around me when I am like that.

I also want to try to be better about posting here more often.

So, I'm going to kill two birds with one stone. I am going to post here every day and list at least one positive thing that happened that day. I am hoping to become a glass half full type person instead of half empty.

Today, I woke up at 5:30am and finished two of three papers that had to be done before my 10:30 class. While some might think that the early wake time was definitely negative, I am going to put it in the positive column because I was able to finish my papers.

How about one more, just to start off on the right foot (or left, I certainly don't want to discriminate.)

My cats haven't horked up hairballs on my floor for me to step in for almost TWO weeks! WOOHOO! :)

stupid snow day

At least it is pretty. Only wish I could enjoy it from inside the house...

Icicles on my porch. The path to the laundry room (directly below) is a deathtrap.

Happiness is no longer optional.

Well, I bit the bullet today and went to the doctor to talk to him about my brain. I have taken anti-depressants on and off for over 12 years. I quit taking them this fall and I really shouldn't have. My anxiety, panic attacks, OCD episodes, crying sprees, etc. have really gotten out of controll, so I got some help.

This is a new (ish) doc. I was at first concerned because he is a man, but he makes me feel pretty comfortable. He asked lots of questions to try to understand what was going on with me, but I had a hard time explaining the craziness inside my head.

How do I explain that it is an enormous struggle just to enter the classroom every day? The wave of claustrophobia that squashes me and makes it hard to breathe. The anxiety that makes it almost impossible to hear and retain information.

How do I explain that I can't watch the news because it will make me bawl like a baby? My cheeks are wet right this moment just writing about all of this crap. I don't think it is normal to cry several times every day. Is it?

I am young. I should be excited about my life. Excited about being a mom to a beautiful marvelous boy and spending many more years with him. Maybe being a grandmother some day.

Instead, I find myself wanting to crawl in the closet and hide. I feel like I am waiting to die instead of fighting to live. I don't want to be this way anymore.

I am making this promise to myself today. I want to take my health...my life...in my own hands. I want to live a long life and be happy while doing it. I will start seeing a counselor, start back on my meds, and start living a healthier life. Starting now.

If I don't I will die. My child will not have a mother. That is not an option.

Blue Screen of Death! dun dun dun duuuuuunnnn!

So, somebody gave me their old laptop a while ago and I didn't really use it because it had some issues. It sat in my closet in its little carrying case thingy for a year. Well, my baby brother, the engi-nerd, wiped everything out and put just the bare minimum on it so I could use it at school. He brought it over the other morning and was showing it to me while we drank our coffee. He was typing something when a SPIDER just crawled right out of the keyboard between the Q and the A! WTF!?!! I may have screamed a little, so he squished it and then laughed at me.

Yesterday, I took the laptop to the help desk on campus to get it set up so I could access the wireless network. It took forever for the guy to get it started (because it is ancient). This blue screen with a bunch of computer gobbledy-gook on it popped up and I heard the computer geek gasp. "The BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH!" I giggled, "the what?" Thinking he was pulling my leg because it is pretty obvious that I know nothing about this new fangled crap, I waited for him to fix it.

"No," he said. "This is REALLY bad." I had never heard of this before, but apparently everyone in the world knows that the BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH is not a great thing. He tried a bunch more times, but each time this screen kept coming back. He looked at me with pity in his eyes, "I'm afraid I've done all I can." I felt like I was in a cracked out version of ER.

"We're sorry, ma'am, but there is nothing else we can do to save him. He has a terminal case of the BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH. Is there somebody we can call for you?"

Sigh...

Oh. I told him about the spider and he thought that might be part of the problem. I'm sure Maaike would have agreed with him. Stupid spiders.