Braver Shake

My Queenie shared her testimony in front of the entire congregation today at church. It was her very first time sharing. The meeting was nearly over, maybe 5 minutes left, and after having doodled and spent that majority of the time in her own world, she stops...looks up at me, and if a very serious look said "Mom, can kids go up there, too?". I said of course they can, and she furiously started writing what she knew to believe in.

After a few more people had taken their turn, I turned to look at my Queenie...she was shaking and tremoring, excitement, fear, and determination shone in her big brown eyes. She curtly tucked her hair behind her ear, stood up, and walked with a long, brave stride up to the pulpit. The Bishop scooted a stool out for her, Queenie stepped up, tucked that hair back again, and nearly blew out her own eardrums as she loudly exclaimed her name. Knowing how far back to stand from a microphone takes practice.

With all of her brave mind and little frame, she read half of what she wrote, decided she was done, quickly closed in Jesus's name, and long-strided straight back to her chair next to me. She sat down, still shaking, and whispered "Well...that was loud!". Oh my Queen...it was loud, and brave...it was a braver shake than you've ever done before.

Bonus....I have her permission to keep her written testimony and a picture she drew of herself sharing it with everyone. By the way, she shared with everyone that she believed and knew that parents and God will always love you, even if you do something "rong". I love that girl.

The Spirit and the little brother

My Queenie came to me today with an enormous grin..."Mommy, guess what? I felt the Holy Spirit today!". She was beaming. She tells me she was on her way to her Sunday school class and didn't want to go...was about to turn around and go back when the Holy Spirit "just got a hold of me" and she became happy. She exclaimed that now she knows "its all real". Oh my Queenie...my heart was pounding and I couldn't stop smiling as I shared the moment with her.

Gunnar, however, could not be outdone..."Mama, I felt the Spirit too! More than her! He was soft...so super soft, like the couch!" (running his hand on the sofa). Oh Big Gunns...I'm so glad he was there to hear his sister's testimony of her love for God and the Spirit of happiness and comfort.

Queenie's cowgirl doll experienced a loss of her lower limb at the knee today. She immediately brought her to me, set up a hospital bed (car seat carrier), made a genius bandage out of notebook paper, and hung a sign outside of her "hospital room" saying "Herting pashunt. Bring love". She asked me what I thought and I told her I thought love was the best medicine to which she replied "Well yes mom, anyone can get better with love". I wish I could make copies of her sign and hang it outside all the patients' rooms this week at clinical...such a big heart, my Queenie...

Younger mother...young son

I loved this little boy once. He had the softest curls and cries.

His whole world was in the backyard and it was as large as the universe

And it was in his hands when they held my face every night while he slept.

He was my shadow in light or absence of light and his own shadow adored him too.

He could make himself curl, twist, burst through the boredom in the air into

Sparkles of raspy laughter and hugs.

Vibrant colors of love emanated outward and through everyone and everything

And “mama, you are a beautiful queen” made my cheeks flush and my heart rush

And my thanks rise to heaven.

Strong hands and mind, strong beyond his years and fears. Strength that worried and

Dazzled and changed me.

Our Spirits are tangled up and our hearts are coexisting and our Master’s plan was

Right all along.

I had to be his young mother…and he, my young son. 

To Tate. 

I didn't study for finals today. Not at all, actually. And the strange thing is, I'm not in a panic about that. I am, however, mentally and physically drained. Fumes. Adrenaline is keeping me running. Literally, too...I have a fun Show Shuffle 5k in the morning with a couple friends of mine. Totally laid back, no timing, and we are wearing costumes. Here's to hoping the wind chill is above zero :)

My kiddos, all 4 of them, since we are fortunate now to have found Shane and are happily getting acquainted and loving every minute of it, are all looking forward to Christmas. I'm finally done shopping, except Tate, who in his typical fashion, has requested Santa take him shopping as opposed to surprising him the old fashioned way. He suffers from 16-itis. We go along with it. Honestly, the least favorite part for me is next...wrapping gifts. Why? Because my 2-year old neighbor could do a better job than me. And it takes a long time! I should switch to gift bags, but seriously....who ever said they had fond memories of opening gift bags on Christmas morn? "said nobody ever". Exactly.

When you reach awkward ruts in your life with some, thankfully the Lord makes passable a path that might've been challenging before but is now traveled smoothly with others with brand new scenery, experiences, and joys. Wax and wane...seasons change...some things return...others fade away as an appreciated memory.

I didn't feel like studying anymore tonight, so I took one hundreth of what I just crammed into my brain and wrote a poem. I rather like it. 

Old MacDonald had a Pharm....and on that pharm was....

Thiazides...make me want to run and hides
Nitrostat...I'd rather make out with a rat
Diltiazem...trade me spots with someone in chem
Lasix...i'd do better figuring out draft picks
Quinidine...migraines and nails on a chalkboard combined
Propranolol...making us memorize all this crap...I'm appalled
Amiodarone...I'd rather downgrade to a flip phone

Pharmacology...sucks.

My mother told me not too long ago that I choose to live life the hard way...and I've done that since I was a little girl.

I agree. 

Today I had a classmate tell me she had no idea how I handle school while having kids, because she thought just having a dog and going to school was difficult. My reply? You learn to live life like a walking zombie. I often wonder in the back of my mind if this is all worth it. The ever growing bags under my eyes, the time away from my kids and husband, my housework and laundry left behind, my yard overgrown, my sleep sporratic and light at best, headaches...

Then I remember the feeling I had when I prayed about nursing school. The blessings I've seen since starting this "hard way". How gaps have been bridged and goals exceeded when I had nothing left to give. When I get the gut-wrenching feeling of desperation and drive when I see someone suffering and know I can make a difference, or the smile on my face when I feel that quiet reassurance from my Maker reminding me He wouldn't have made this possible if it weren't in His grand plan for me.

I did have headaches today...my back hurt...I saw my kids for about 2 hours total...I didn't eat enough...I lost more hair...I have new aches and pains...and it all reminds me I'm still moving forward.

Yes...life the hard way...the real way.

Today

Today was like....

*stepping in gum...with bare feet... in New York City
*holding a baby and having them pull an earring out of your ear
*holding same baby and feeling warm spit-up drip down your shirt into your bra
*having to pee during a traffic jam...and the nearest exit is 5 miles away
*popping a zit in high school and watching it swell to 5 times the size it was before...and homecoming is the next day
*taking a drink of expired chocolate milk
*having horrible gas pains while running
*fighting with your best friend
*trying to get a popcorn hull out of your teeth...5 days after you ate the popcorn
*finally getting to that exit in the traffic jam, finding a gas station, peeing.....no toilet paper
*sneeze-sploding while talking to your boss
*waxing half your eyebrow off
*throwing up bile
*making plans to sleep in....then remembering you have a long run in the morning
*walking into the sauna and getting comfy after a hard workout...only to be joined by the hairiest man alive....who chose NOT to wear deoderant while cycling
*breathing deeply in downward dog....then falling on your face when your foot slips on the hardwood
*setting your alarm for 6pm instead of 6am
*wearing heels with a heel blister
*walking out of the bathroom with wet splatter marks on your pants from the sink spraying you...and they are very inconveniently right across your zipper
*gagging on mucus from a way too productive cough...during a midterm exam...and you're sitting furthest away from the door
*sitting in the middle seat on the airplane...between newlyweds
*sitting in the middle seat on the airplane between chatty cathy and negative norman
*sitting in the aisle seat on the airplane...next to the lavatory door....with an IBS patient inside
*the taste of Pepto Bismol

.......the end.

Totally tough weekend... (slowly bring in mournful cello music in backround)

I was supposed to run a half marathon on Saturday. I've trained for months, did it last year (and did it well, might I add), and was so ready. If I might be so bold as to say it, the universe threw everything it could at me to stop the race from happening, and in the end my body finally refused. Illness, exhaustion, asthma, stress fractures, uncontrollable weight gain, and some fancy frosting on top called a migraine.

It started the night before after stuffing myself full of pasta at Hu Hot to "carb up". Dull throbbing...fuzzy thinking...upset tummy...

By 2am I knew deep down it wasn't going anywhere. By 6:45am as we sat in the parking area near the starting line I finally gave in to the fact that this was not happening for me. (increase intentsity of mournful music to climax) I wanted to punch my window and kick rocks and yell into the sky "really?! REALLY?!".

I had a good cry, was tucked in by my Ma who was visiting, and after much rest and drug administration, I started feeling a little more normal about 10pm last night.

My friends ran great, persevered through the heat and humidity, and I'm so proud of them!

It didn't happen. It'll happen again. The end.

2nd semester of nursing school. Let me clarify this is the 2nd out of 5.Long. Semesters.

Picture a class of 59....oh wait, we already lost some...about 56 kiddos mostly under the age of 23 neatly decked out in their "uniforms", giddy with excitement to finally be able to stick needles in people and slide tubes in...well....orifices, and you'll have a clear picture of what my first week was like.

It was good to see everyone again, and the awkwardness of the first day wore off quickly. You know, the awkwardness like "hey! how was your summer?" "good, how was yours?" "it was awesome!" "ya...so you ready for this?" "oh ya, totally!"....granted this is all said in our best beginning of the semester super-cheer voices while all the while we're really thinking "crap...what's her name...what's her name...what's her name...dang I can't think of it!".

Side note: I dyed my hair the night before school started. Cinnaberry. Way more berry than cinna. I'd like to thank those that have complimented me with frozen smiles speaking through their teeth saying "it looks good!" or my favorite "it looks natural!" .... I know what you're really thinking (wink wink)....because I'm thinking the same thing.

Another side note: Queenie informed Big Gunns today that this is how life goes: first you go to high school...then college...then you get a dog. Duh.

Last side note: when you ask your pedicurist (is that a word?) to paint the number "13.1" on your big toes on top of a lovely deep plum color in preparation for your half marathon the following weekend and she blushes and says "you want me try?".... read through the lines and realize what she's trying to say is she has never done numbers...just fancy flowers... she gets an "A" for effort....I get to be the very first set of numbers she's ever painted on anyone's toenails. Win-win.

My second week at Allen was tiring, but not in an exciting way. I know this first semester is like an introduction, and we will all be wonderfully prepared little pre-nurse robots who want to serve our community and like wearing see through white scrubs, but I am just itching to get to the "good stuff"! What is that saying...about a horse and a cart....anyway, I'm doing my best to be patient while sifting and testing through the fluff of the first semester. Don't get me wrong, I'm still very much happy to be there, just overly ready to get through. I guess this is what happens when you wait to go back to school until your biological, economical, emotional, goal-alogical clock is ticking what seems like faster every day.

Pathophysiology is so far not as bad as those before me warned. All I have to do is feed that beast enough outside of class and it sticks....so far. My favorite class thus far is Health Assessment. Hands on, great instructor, fun classmates, lots of lab time...formula for favoritism in my book.

I think I'm really going to enjoy this Health Assessment class. 3 hours of lab today flew by, and I have great classmates. A bit intimidated by knowing my rockin' mom-of-three bod will be nearly completely exposed to the hands and eyes of my lab partner before the semester ends...now that is only because I'm in class with about 15 other young, blonde, skinny 21-year olds...but hey, otherwise, it seems like its going to be fun. Never mind the 30 some pages of assessment points there are to memorize; I'm sure it will all come together when it needs to.  

Greatest thing so far about this school? The instructors. Haven't met one I can complain about and that makes a HUGE difference. 

Its the middle of my first week of nursing school. I'm glad to finally be in an environment that is conducive to my learning style, to be among like-minded individuals, and to be learning what I WANT to learn.

The first couple days left me (and all 57 of the other students in my class) sort of dazed...a classic "huh?" look stuck on our faces. I felt a bit of panic creeping in, a bit of doubt, maybe. So I came home after a very long day of classes Tuesday with my friends Migraine and Back Ache, assassinated my friends with 4 ibuprofen and some taco salad (thanks husband!), danced with my children, went for a run, and ended my night with a sweet blessing from hubby and a the perfect combo of freezing cold air and warm blankets in the bedroom. Even my pillow stayed cold for what seemed an extra long time.

In other words, I feel extremely blessed. I spent a good "couple three" hours organizing the information assault from the first 3 days, got a few assignments completed, read some text, and counted my blessings in the back of my mind all along the way.

I also purchased my first lab coat, scrubs, "good stethescope" (because a half-useful steth from my EMT training just wouldn't cut it), and ordered some other required goodies for further into the shemester. And might I just add, I think I look pretty darn good in a lab coat. Excuse my use of cheese here, but seeing myself in the mirror with that on gave me goose-pimples (because saying goose pimples is more awesome than boring ol' goose bumps).

I am meant for this profession.

Bricks and Bums

I HAD to record this experience. My extra stubborn 3.5 year old male offspring, fondly called Big Gunns, is still not fully potty trained. In fact, if life were left up to him in all of his toddler mental capacities, everyone would run around naked, pee outside in the yard, and wear occasional light-up snow boots as an accessory.

Over this Christmas break we have been setting the kitchen timer to go off every 45 minutes and allowing him to go with no skivvies...just a pair of shorts. We figure hey, maybe he just needs a little more freedom of movement in order to recognize his body's signals, right? So he's been doing stellar! Except today...two small accidents, and then...

"Mommy! I. went. poopoo." Picture a toddler in swishy warm up pants (underpants-less!) lifting his leg as he comes around the corner of the arm of the sofa just in time to drop a literal, perfect rectangle of a brick from his pant leg onto the floor.

Oh heck...seriously?! I switched on my go-go gadget arms, somehow reached lengthwise across the coffee table and grabbed a few kleenexes, while simultaneously holding him rock solid. Then in one swift movement swooped him and the brick up (luckily I didn't get confused and switch hands) and ran to the bathroom.

A quick hose-down in the shower, clothes into the washer, and we're good to go. He apologized profusely. I melted.

I type this through fogged over eyes and muddy thoughts (thanks to a little jewel called NyQuil). In fact, my daughter just rambled off a 62 second list of instructions for me...something about train stations and projects being finished, to which I numbly agreed.

I'm avoiding a "2012 in review" post because I would become annoyed at my lack of consistency in blogging over the year, and the last thing I need is to become annoyed on top of muddy and foggy; too big of a mess to clean up.

Can I just mention for a moment though, what an amazing husband I have?

I am lying here for the second day in a row in our comfortable and warm bed, recovering from the snots and aches, and he is manning the entire house, children, dog, laundry, dishes, bodily excretions from both children and dogs, dinner, and grocery shopping tasks. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is blessed like me. The man is a genius in a sense that he can handle one hundred and fifty seven things going on around him like a champ. Work at odd hours, master's program at ALL hours, taking care of sick wifey, kids, dog...wait, I already did this list....anyway, he still has time to make my life what I want it to be and the most humbling bit of it all, is that he puts himself last. The last to get sleep, to eat, to play. I'm certain there isn't anyone out there like him. He deserves everything cool and sporty and yummy and manly under the sun.

Sorry, he's all sold out. I got the one and only model ever made and he's priceless.

While at the babysitter this morning, Gunnar went to the polls with Kristen to vote. She gave him a For the Strength of Youth pamphlet to keep him busy. All of a sudden, Gunnar shouts "I found Jesus!". Everyone laughed...as the poll was located in a local church!

Felt good to vote today. I hope The candidate I voted for comes out ahead, but regardless of the results, God will still be in charge, Jesus is still my Savior, and His plan is still in effect.

Orange you glad you looked?

Saturday mornings I go on long runs. At this point in time until about February, because I'm bored with no company lately and currently not training, means anything over 6 miles for me. Today I ran a little over 7. The cold air was invigorating and I'm glad I chose the trails over running in town. Running around town is boring, and people tend to stare. Nothing worse than a starer when you're trying to focus or just trying to zone out and you know someone is watching. Creeeeep!

So today I went to George Wyth and hopped on and off the paved trail. Mostly I chose to run through the woods. I have 2 mud runs coming up back to back weekends in November (one is 5k, one is 7 miles), and I've been spending my long runs getting used to cross-country and mud and grade changes. Anywho, I was flying along through the forest, having a blast, when I came upon a bright yellow sign. It stood out, because all the other signs in the park are lame-o brown and oh, the word "hunting" seemed to be illuminated...so ya, I stopped to read it.

Caution: This area subject to open bow hunting for deer from October 2012 to (something like) Feb 2012. Whhhaaaaaaaaa?!?!?! I froze. Like a ____ in headlights. Bad joke, I know, couldn't help it. All of a sudden my mortality smacked me in the face and I nearly expected an arrow to breeze past my face. All my clothing was dark except my purple shirt. My pasty white legs couldn't even reflect the sunlight to save me because I had knee high Army socks on the color of poop. After the small freak-out, I read the smaller print. Hunters must shoot from a stand at least 25 yards from marked trails. OK cool. As long as someone is a bad shot, I'm good. You'll want to lecture me on safety, but I kept going. I stayed on the trails, let go of my apprehensions, and continued to enjoy all 7 miles of my time. 7 miles of my life I am glad to have spent the way I did.

I will, however, be investing in a hunter's orange hat (and maybe knee socks) for the future bow hunting season. The end.

Half...

I ran my first half-marathon Sept 8th! It was literally the most difficult thing I've ever done. In fact, those were my first sputtered words after finishing, when asked how I felt! No doubt...giving birth was easier than this. I am not a typical marathon runner. I have hips and belly fat. My form could use some work...ok probably a lot of work. I don't shave my legs enough to qualify to wear the running shorts I wear, but do it anyway. I have alot of work to do before I reach a full marathon, but I'm determined.

At about mile 10-ish, I saw three people from church (thanks to the cowbells!) along the path and for just a moment felt like running off the course and smothering them in a sweaty hug...that's how happy I was to see somebody...anybody I knew and who could fill up my nearly empty mental tank. Around this point I felt like my body could probably keep going, but as usual, my mental state was fading. I seem to battle with myself continuously while running. Its rather exhausting and I'm sure I burn a lot of unnecessary energy fighting with my own brain as to whether I will speed up just a tad, increase my stride, breathe at 2/3 instead of 1/2...etcetera etcetera...blah blah. Anyhow, I crossed the finish line after having just seen my husband and Mattea and Gunnar sitting in their cute little wagon, banging on a drum and shaking a tamborine to make noise and cheer me on. It gave me the last possible boost of energy I had left to sprint toward the finish. I was then greeted with the beginning of an asthma attack, but I was prepared for that and sucked on my inhaler. I finished with a 10:32 avg pace, just over 2 hrs and 20 minutes if I remember correctly. I'm pretty proud of that. For your knowledge bank, that was 11th place in the...yes...ATHENA category. I'm an 11th placer. I registered with the big girls, although during my training I dropped a few pounds below the weight requirement for it. Oops...oh well, there were no scales on race day.

Seriously...the entire process of training for it and completing it was not just a physical and emotional battle and journey, it was a spiritual one as well. I had close calls with asthma attacks, heat sickness, injury, mental barriers, and the temptation to just plain give up. With prayer and friendship from my training partner Olivia Moore, the support of my family and friends and children, I pushed through and feel like God was running just beside me the entire way. I feel like He took my hand, at certain points, and pulled me, while other times I felt Him in the breeze that refreshed me, or the wildlife that crossed my path gracefully and renewed my love of the outdoors. He was in the water I drank, the strength I felt, and at each mile marker I felt His love and confidence in me. I was never alone, and never doubted that I could do it.

PR with a side of fries

So I do my "long run" on Saturdays in my training schedule for the half in Sept. I'm a recovering headphones addict and have been doing all of my runs sans ear buds. However, when my usual running partner called to tell me she couldn't join me for the 6 miles we had scheduled yesterday, I freaked (internally). Not because she couldn't be there, but because I knew that listening to myself breathe and my feet striking the ground for 6 miles was a mental challenge I wasn't up to. See, I get superbly exhausted listening to my lungs and feet! Truly, its a mental thing, my body really isn't tired, but mentally I'm ... eh... not half-marathon material yet.

So yep, I wore the buds, left at 7:15am, and headed out alone. I felt sort of liberated. Mostly because I was kid-free for an hour, but also because it was early, I was out with the stragglers in the deer herd that live near the trail, and it was cool and breezy. With an empty food catcher and only about 1 cup of water drank I took off.

53 minutes later I heard Lance Armstrong pierce through the buds to tell me I'd reached my goal and run my fastest 6 miles yet. Lance and I are like this (crossing fingers). No we aren't, I'm lying. I like to pretend though!

The side of fries? At about mile 5.5, I see a adolescent beaver next to the trail (a crushed McD's bag nearby) and he has a french fry hanging out of his mouth...just staring at me. I felt like we needed to talk, but I was making good time and didn't have any spare seconds for a lecture or a picture...although both would've been epic.