Monday, February 28, 2011
My good friend, Clare started listing monthly goals quite some time ago. Several of the other bloggers (and also friends) that I read with a great deal of regularity also have started doing this. I think it's a lovely idea, and in a time when I need strict goals and lists just to get me through the days, I thought that doing it here would hold me more accountable. If not, then just prove to the world what a lazy ass I actually am!
- start and finish two books. (I am about half way through Eat, Pray, Love right now, so this will add up to about two and a half books for the month.) I miss reading. My vocabulary has shrunk and I've started using words like "dude" and "awesome" way too frequently.
- lose five pounds. I've done really well with the weight loss so far this year, but it never hurts to set and achieve those small goals as well as the large ones.
- devote one night a week to being T.V free. I am terrible about turning the television on and not even watching it. This will probably be Tuesday nights since there's nothing good on television anyway. The only exception to this will be when I go to bed. Radio around here sucks and I need the noise to fall asleep. This will also help with the reading goal.
- go with Aiden to pick out and buy cute baskets that will fit nicely either in the kitchen or laundry room in order to start recycling. I've wanted to do this for a long time, and we really need to reduce our trash.
- clean and organize my closet. Half of those clothes either don't fit or I never wear them. A sock pile in the couch in the living room is NOT acceptable. Especially when you cover it with pillows when there is company.
- take myself on a date to a movie. Eat a huge bowl of popcorn, with ranch seasoning.
- do the 30 day shred three times a week. I have been really good at averaging about once or twice a week. Kicking it up a day will only boost my energy and weight loss. The sound of Jillian's voice may kill some brain cells, and I'm sure that when it hurts when I sit down to pee might change my mind.
- go to the gym at least 15 days. I usually average around 12 days a month. Once again, this is attainable, especially if I start going on weekends again, which I haven't done since Christmas.
- buy ONE (and I mean one, not five) really awesome (read: amazing, astonishing, striking, stunning, wondrous) pair of heels to wear in Las Vegas in April.
Day 21 – Another moment
This last weekend, my parents invited me out to dinner at the local Tai restaurant. I have never eaten Tai food before, but I knew that my friend Mike (who I'm sure will not mind me using his very generic first name) LOVES this place, so I brought him along.
My parents (as well as pretty much anyone who has ever eaten there) have been ranting and raving over what a good place this is. We ordered spring rolls. We got a sweet peanut sauce to dip them in, but also some soy sauce, a jalapeno vinegar, and a red hot sauce. The hot sauce my mother keeps stock in at her house, and on the front of the bottle is a rooster.
Mike, with as much class as he is able to muster, asks my mother to "pass the Cock *quietly* sauce."
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Day 20 – This month
Four weeks ago yesterday is the day that B walked into my apartment and I knew that it was over. Over this last month I have started to put all of my pieces back together. I have tried to figure out who I am without him (even though it wasn't a long relationship, just over three months, it was a very intense relationship.) Other than a few very short lived flings before him, I had been single for over seven years. B walked into my life, and was a force to be reckoned with. I fell for him, and I fell for him hard. Trying to get back to where I was before has been difficult, and I work every day at it. What's harder than missing him, because I spent a lot of our relationship missing him, is not talking to him at all. The lack of any sort of communication seems cold and harsh. It's for the best, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt like hell.
I started writing again, really writing. Journaling and going over old writings and improving them, making them better, or trying to. I started reading again.
Two weeks ago I worked my ass off at work when a coworker and close friend was out pretty much for five full days when she and her child were ill. I picked up slack that I didn't know was even there to pick up in the first place and I carried a lot of resentment for other coworkers who didn't even attempt to help me. The last couple of days I let a lot of this go, and tried to make the best of things.
I have done a lot of cooking, not so much cleaning, and I have rediscovered who my real friends are. I have gone to dinner with friends, had drinks with friends, and sat on the couch with a box of tissues and cried with friends.
Last weekend I shared my bed with a longtime friend after I had drank too much. Just having a warm body and a hand to hold did wonders for me. Him being there for me, simply so I wouldn't be alone was enough.
This weekend my good friend T and I had a long discussion about trust and friendship. I'm having severe trust issues after my breakup with B and that I feel as though he lied to me more than he told me the truth. T has been withholding things as well, which wouldn't have been such a big deal, but she flat out lied to me as well. We have talked, we have worked things out, and there are no hard feelings, but I feel myself being more guarded with everyone now.
I played a lot of Super Mario Bros on the Wii. I lost five pounds.
This last month has been a whirlwind of emotions. And I'm also hoping that as 2011 continues that this will be the roughest. That I have nowhere to go but up.
We can't see each other anymore. We refuse to open our eyes and see beyond our own selfish habits and horrible dreams that both of us will continuously run back to the other time after time, until one of us or both of us decides that enough is enough.
But will enough ever really be enough? Will all of the girls you are casually dating ever really know about me, and will I ever be able to tell my best friends about you for fear that they will look at me like I'm a child who can't get over a broken toy?
These are circles that neither one of us will ever be able to fess up to, and I have a feeling we are going to keep the other at arms length until there comes a time when one of us or both of us can't put up with it anymore. And then you will be gone forever.
There will be no bags to pack and no papers to sign, and maybe I'll actually give you back that pair of tennis shoes you left here almost a year ago, and maybe I'll get my thirty dollars that I loaned you for a tattoo, but I doubt it. I doubt you'll ever shave your goatee and I'll never let you go until it stops being so easy to run back to you time and again.
I will paint you a picture and leave it on your windshield for you to wonder who the real artist is, and in the back of your head you'll always believe it is you, because you have always believed that you were the one who was painting me, when all along it was me who was painting you.
And maybe one of these days I'll stop making metaphors out of life and maybe you will be able to look back and think of me as a pretty girl who stole your heart with her eyes, but I doubt it. And I know I will eventually begin to love you to a point where it does not hurt me to think about you, and maybe you will love me so much it hurts to know that you lost me. And I think that will make me happy.
But for right now I am going to go on keeping you my little secret, leaving things out in the open, and calling your phone when I need a little reminder that someone used to care about me.
Well at least I had the courage to put it all out in the open.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
I have been sucking at updating the last couple of days. There are no real excuses, I apologize.
Day 19 – Something you regret
I try really hard to live a life where I regret nothing. Though in order to do this, I would have to be the perfect person. The perfect daughter, the perfect mother, the perfect friend. As I know too well, I am not perfect.
I am a very firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Call it God, or call it Fate, or just call it dumb luck, but looking back on my life, everything that has happened has been part of some grander plan. All of the loves of my life have served a purpose, no matter the heartbreak they caused when they were gone. All of the bumps and bruises, all of the fuck-ups and missteps have led to something bigger. This is something I am clinging very hard to right now in the wake of the recent breakup; that it happened for a reason, and that something bigger and better will come along because of it.
I don't regret my decision to have Aiden. I regret doing it as young as I did, but I was also very mature for my age, and I've done a pretty decent job at bringing up this little boy in this world mostly on my own.
My biggest regret is not finishing school, though I know that the path I chose at the time was where I needed to be. I needed to be a mommy more than I needed a degree. I'm still working at the better mommy part, but I know that eventually I'll be ready to go back and finish school, and better my life.
My mother spent 20 years earning her bachelor's degree. She took night classes, and studied, and sacrificed time with her children and husband. She also worked full time. She started off as a secretary for the agency she works for now. Over 20 years she worked her way up the ladder, the first person to hold her position without a degree. She learned and she trained, and she worked her ass off. She graduated a few years ago, doesn't need the degree for anything in particular, because she's kept the same job, but the honor of having it was what she wanted. She's a great inspiration.
I think it matters more in this world who you are, rather than what you have or what you do. Though I really do think that one is the extension of the other. I know who I am, now I need to figure out what it is that I want to do.
What do I want to be when I grow up? Happy. Content. Regret-free.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Day 18 – Your favorite birthday
Unlike some people I know, my birthday was always a HUGE occasion in my family, much like all of my other family members' birthdays. When I turned four, there was a huge party with another little boy who shared my day of birth. My mother thought it would be hilarious to put the re-light candles on our cakes. Of course the second or third time they re-lit and both of us started crying hysterically. This still remains as the one time my father was "right".
I had parties at the local rollerskating rink, where they would let us do the limbo and the hokey pokey, all on skates. I had slumber parties. Sleepovers with ten or more girls camped out in our living room. As I reached the double digits is when these parties REALLY started to get interesting.
The topic of conversation always centered around boys. We would watch movies with our favorite "boy" actors (mainly Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Brad Renfo) and oooh and ahhh over how dreamy they were. We would stay up until the sun started to peek out in the early morning, and of course wake up a few hours later seemly completely rested, only to then spend the remainder of our Saturday afternoons in bed, catching up on sleep.
My 5th grade birthday party was shortly after we had adopted Angel, the barn cat. My mom let me rent Arachnophobia, and the tiny little kitten would attempt to eat our faces during the most nerve wracking parts of the film.
The year I turned 14, was my best birthday. I had always been friends with boys, but this was the first year my parents had decided to let me have boys over to my party. The only stipulation was that they could not, under any circumstances, stay the night. The three boys who were my best friends, C, M and J instead decided to have a sleep over of their own, and that they would stay at my house as long as was allowed, and then they would go crash at one of their houses.
C showed up with his package wrapped with a napkin taped to one side, and a scrap of wrapping paper taped to the other. I know I still have photo evidence of this, but still thinking about his shoddy wrapping job still makes me laugh. J was the resident comedian, and C and M just would feed off of him. (I feel like I need to point out that I've talked about M before, he was my first kiss, about a year after this.)
Among the ten or so girls, these boys were the life of the party. They stuffed balloons up their shirts, pranced around like porn stars, and just made us laugh.
As the night was winding down, the cake was eaten, the presents were opened, and the three of them presented one last gift for me. A video cassette.
On this tape were a series of one acts, created, directed, and filmed by the three of these budding entertainers. In one of them, they were selling pies. In the next, it was a News program. At the end of the video, they all sang seductively ala Marilyn Monroe "Happy Birthday." And we laughed. We laughed so long and so hard that we fell down to the floor with tears streaming down our faces. My mother laughed so hard she cried. Then we watched it again, and again, and again.
After that night I made a copy of that video, and I still have it sitting on a video shelf in my bedroom. It has been watched so many times that the tracking is off on it, and little white lines will come through the screen.
These boys and I stayed close up through freshman year of high school. M followed his own group, went to school in California, and is doing photography and graphic design out of Omaha. J, I believe went to film school. C and I still talk on a semi-regular basis. He's in San Francisco and living a life that I'm envious of. C is the only one who has ever met Aiden, and he was just a baby then.
My birthday, celebrating the start of another year of my life, lucky number 14, and I have photos and a video to remember it by.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Day 17 – Your favorite memory
Like almost anyone, narrowing down a memory out of my lifetime of memories to call it my "favorite" would be nearly impossible. If I had one favorite memory, why would I bother to write about anything else? Why would I go through my days trying to live up to some impossible moment that I know will never be topped? I have favorite memories from specific events or times in my life.
I know a lot of you assumed my favorite memory would be from the day Aiden was born. Though I love my son, cherish every minute we get to spend together, and would NEVER, NEVER take any of it back, the day he was born was a very intensely lonely and eye opening day for me, not a favorite. I feel like a terrible mother for saying that, too. It was sink or swim on that day, and though I chose to keep swimming, for a long time I felt as though I was drowning.
So instead of something dark and tragic, I have decided this time to focus on an intensely happy, life altering even in my life. Silly to most of you, understood by a few, it was the first time I met and spoke with Taylor Hanson. The moment itself is so small and insignificant that it's not the entire point.
My mother and I had driven to Denver for a Hanson concert (I believe this was number 8), and we met up with my longtime internet friend, fellow Hanson fan, Clare. We had met in person once before, four or so years previous, another concert (that one being number 3.)
Hanson had started doing something new with their tours; in addition to just the concert, on the afternoon before the show they had started taking one mile walks for charity, with their fans. They called this Taking the Walk. For every mile walked (each person counting separately) the band would donate a dollar to a charity of the walker's choosing. Also, the walkers would be able to interact with members from the band.
Any fan of any band would have been thrilled to jump at the chance to meet the band members in such an informal setting. Clare and I, of course, decided that we had to participate.
Unknown to us, Hanson had changed the location of The Walk only an hour or so before it was set to start, and unfortunately we were all the way on the opposite end of Denver around the time they were to start. My mother, driving like a bat out of hell to get her babies to where they wanted to be most, raced across the city. She let us off in the middle of the street, and went to find a place to park, and then catch up with us by walking in the opposite direction.
Clare and I took off. At this point in time, I was around 40 pounds heavier, and also smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. We ran, me trying to hold my pants up, my shoe flying. We hurdled a wall. My lungs gave up after about a quarter of a mile, and I started wheezing. I urged Clare on. She hung back from the pack of people we saw gathered and starting on the walk.
Finally, we made it to the group, and it was a bit larger than we had anticipated. Finding Isaac, Taylor and Zac seemed impossible. Right about the time my mother caught up with us, we realized that Zac was walking with a couple of girls directly behind us.
About half way through, we stopped to listen to Taylor ramble on through a bullhorn about how awesome he is, and we, of course, nodded in approval. This gave my lungs and my leg ample time to recoup and by the time we took off again, Clare pulling on my arm, we ended up in stride with beautiful Taylor.
I forgot to mention, these walks were urged to be done barefoot. The band and most of the fan were not wearing their shoes, rather carrying them. It was October. They were walking on pine cones. No thank you.
As Clare chatted with Taylor, she turned to him and said, "This is my friend, Sadie!" like they were old friends, "She's from Nebraska." He turned around to shake my hand, eyeballing the IOWA hoodie I was wearing. "I'm Taylor." He said as I gripped his enormous hand.
They talked, and we talked, and walked, and my mother caught most of it on videotape, save the part where she was walking backwards and ran into a street sign.
The best part. The absolute best part. We're walking along a sidewalk that is surrounded by evergreen trees which have started to lose their needles. The people walking barefoot are trying not to get stabbed by them. All of a sudden, Taylor stops, blocks Clare with his body, and says, "Watch out, there's a bee!" at which Clare jumps back and exclaims, "I'm allergic!" and Taylor kills the bee, on the layer of pine needles, with his bare foot. Best. Moment. Ever.
Things wrapped up pretty quickly after that. We ended up in front of someone's house, they sang a couple of songs acapela, and Clare managed to get a photo with Taylor where they're actually looking at the same camera.
Because of all the physical exertion, I spent the majority of the evening with a terrible headache, and I could barely walk the next morning. The concert was wonderful, like most Hanson concerts are.
Oh, and my mother managed to capture the moment with the bee on camera, so I'll be able to remember it in perfect detail forever.
Clare's life was saved, by Taylor Hanson's bare feet. <3
Monday, February 21, 2011
This will be the last of my pre-written 30 days. I think the first time I wrote it, I nailed it.
Day 16 – Your first kiss
I had kissed people before. Boys and girls. I had never been the type to think that boys had cooties. I was always the girl who had a "boyfriend" at school. What this meant was that we would hold hands while on the swing set, kiss each other on the cheek when no one else was looking, and if he was feeling nice he would give me some extra Halloween candy.
M was my on again off again boyfriend throughout elementary school and middle school. More than anything else he was my best friend. We would swim at the pool during the summer, and whenever I wasn't at my house it was a pretty sure bet that you would find me over at his. We dated for about nine months in 8th grade before he got tired of me and broke up with me via a handwritten note. No skin off my back, and we remained friends.
Our freshman year of high school, and our little group had remained pretty much unchanged. I had decided that if no one else asked me to the homecoming dance that I would see if M wanted to go. He had a learners driving permit by then, so when I asked him he eagerly agreed. I bought a pretty dress, had my hair all done up, and with his grandmother chaperoning in the backseat, he drove us to dinner and then to the dance. It was like it had always been, we just hung out. We had our pictures taken, which still to this day make me giggle because flat footed I was a good two inches taller than he was, but with my heels on I towered above him.
We hung out with friends and we danced. After the dance, his grandmother picked us up and he drove me back to my house.
He walked me inside, joking with my parents about how he had brought me home on time. As I walked him out to the backdoor, I leaned over and pecked him on the lips as I had done so many times before. Then I pulled away.
He pulled me back to him, and deepened the kiss. This probably lasted no more than a minute before he pulled away, pecked me on the lips and left.
I don't remember much of the kiss itself, I had nothing else to compare it to, but I do remember the feeling.
I then had to walk back through the living room where my parents were sitting watching television, and I felt like I was walking on air. I'm sure I had swollen lips and a smile plastered from ear to ear, not to mention the huge neon sign floating above my head that read "just been kissed!". But my parents never said anything and I wore that tingly, giggly feeling for a whole week before it faded.
M and I grew apart significantly after that. It was our first and last kiss until my 25th birthday, over ten years later.
But I will NEVER forget that feeling. Like you just put your finger too close to an electrical socket when it was damp, or how when you rub a balloon vigorously on your hair, or when someone gives you a deep tissue massage, or the second or two before an orgasm.
I think most of us spend a lot of our lives searching for the feeling of that first kiss.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Day 15 – Your dreams
Six years ago I had an intensely vivid dream of a river with a wide fork in it. I was walking with two men, one of which was there for me, the other who I tried so desperately to cling to, but offered no reassurance. As we walked along this river, it got deeper and darker and right before I woke up, I went under. This dream (and I don't usually remember my dreams) came at a point in my life where I was trying to make some big decisions in the direction of my life. It helped me to realize that no matter the choice or my reasons behind it, it was mine alone to make. So I did, and I've never looked back.
When I was seven I wanted to be an archeologist or a paleontologist. I wanted to dig up dinosaur bones and study ancient cultures.
When I was fifteen I wanted to be a writer. Prose, or poetry. I wanted to publish a poetry book that was titled "love, blue" and was about me and the people I have loved through my life. I wanted to write music like Michelle Branch and play a guitar.
When I was eighteen I was going to be a teacher. One semester of college and I decided I really didn't like children all that much.
At nineteen I wanted to be a graphic designer. My dream? To create the billboards that decorate Times Square in New York City. Ii wanted to make commercials, or title sequences for television shows or movies.
At twenty I was a mother, and I no longer had any dreams.
My dream was to be able to make it through the month without a bill collector phone call, or my cable tv being shut off from lack of payment. It was to be able to have enough money to put gas in my car and food on my table.
I once had a boyfriend ask me what I wanted most out of a significant other, and I told him that more than anything, I wanted someone who would stay.
Over the years, things have gotten easier. Aiden is growing up into a fine young man. I managed to quit smoking, get a new job that I actually enjoy that pays decently. For the most part we're able to keep our heads above water from one week to the next. I have been able to find time to better myself. I have started actually cooking meals instead of relying on boxes or fast food places.
My dreams currently? I would like to finish school. In what, I don't know, but at this point I would settle for anything. I know that this is at least another five or six years off. I would like to pay down the student loan debt I've accumulated already without adding any more onto it. I would like to take a class or two a semester, online if possible.
I would like to be a more present mother. I'm here, but at the same time I'm trying to cook dinner and do laundry and keep the apartment in running order all while working full time, trying to exercise, and trying to play and learn with Aiden. It's exhausting and on the days I have off, I find myself catching up on lost sleep and falling further behind in the process.
I would like to be able to enjoy my time alone as not a punishment, but as therapeutic. I raised Aiden for over six years pretty much by myself, and it's hard to accept his father into his life every other weekend. I get severely depressed, and lock myself in my room for 48 hours because I have no one to care for or entertain. I want to be able to go on dates with myself, get to know my friends all over again, and just find time for ME. Because there is still a me without Aiden.
I want to run a 5k. This is silly and will probably never happen, and if I ever did, it would probably be so slow that I wouldn't finish by the time the race was over, but it's something I WANT to do. Maybe next year sometime.
And more than anything I want to find someone who I can share my life with. Platonic or romantic, it doesn't matter to me. I want to find someone that I can be their number one person. (and I know I'm Aiden's number one person, and he's my number one person, and nothing will ever change that,) I want to mean something more than passing entertainment to someone between significant others. I want to be someone other than the other woman, or the person who is there when no one else is. I want to feel needed and wanted. After seven years I am DESPERATE to open my heart to someone, but this time the RIGHT someone.
Oh, and I'd like to have one uninterrupted night with Taylor Hanson, and Johnny Depp. Together, or separate... I'm not that picky.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Day 14 – What you wore today
This is a repeat of day ten, though I'm not really sure why, I'll go with it.
Yesterday, I wore my grey workout pants with my red "NCBVI" (Nebraska Commission for the Blind and Visually Impaired) t-shirt with my Nike shoes to work. After work I walked around in a towel for a while, and then for going out, I put on my one pair of jeans that still fit, my belt, a black tank-top and a brown zip up hoodie sweater. I wore my flat slip on tennis shoes, and straightened my hair. I also put on makeup for the first time in three weeks.
Of course upon waking this morning, I realize that i still have some of the makeup on my face, but most of it is on the pillow I slept on.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Day 13 – This week
I am generally a very outwardly optimistic person. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt (at least once, if not more) the majority of the time. This week has been a test of my character.
My coworker and very good friend, T, has been out three full days, and only worked a few hours the last couple of days. Normally this isn't a big deal, especially if it's a planned absence, but unplanned has left my department scrambling trying to fill in the void left by her absence. Unfortunately, I end up being the one scrambling, and I end up being the one filling the void.
It's annoying, and frustrating, and as of today, the best description of the emotion I was feeling was resentment. I HATE being resentful. I especially hate feeling that way about a friend who has had little to no control over the cards that have been handed to her over this last week.
I have also been having some very strong feelings regarding my breakup with B. There are things I feel like I need to say and haven't been given the chance. I have also been able to come to the conclusion that I am better off without him, but that doesn't make the hurt any less. He alluded this last weekend that he found fault in the fact that I'm too independent. That I didn't REALLY need him (which truth be told, I don't.) I don't want to walk through life needing a man (or any person) to depend on. I've worked really hard over the last eight years to support myself not only financially, but emotionally as well. I think it's a huge flaw in his character that he found fault in me being able to do that.
I feel as though I'm not doing enough with my diet, or exercise to make much of a difference. Of course most of this is due to the fact that I'm extremely unsettled with other aspects of my life, and when I start thinking about it, it always reverts back to my weight. I'm trying to remedy that.
Aiden is spending the weekend (and next) with his father and his family. I'm looking forward to the alone time, however, it is the first length of time that I'll have been alone since the break up. Luckily I have really awesome friends and have filled most of the hours with plans.
I need to take a deep breath, and go to bed early. Tomorrow is Friday, the best day of the week!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I want to apologize for not writing yesterday. Its a struggle to actually write anything today, but since the topic is so simple, I think I will be able to make it through. I'm exhausted, physically, emotionally, mentally. It's only Wednesday, too. Hopefully I will indulge more on that in the coming weeks.
Day 12 – What’s in your bag
Lucky for all of you, I actually cleaned out by bag a couple of days ago! I normally have a few toys, wrappers, and tons of loose change, but it's pretty organized right now.
Wallet : this has my one and only credit card with a $500 dollar limit. They credit company keeps trying to up my limit every couple of months, and every couple of months I call them and have them move it back down. My debit card, Aiden's library card, my driver's license. About $43 dollars in cash, a buck something in change. I have most of my Hanson concert tickets, along with a few other band's concert tickets, Blue October, The Frey, Counting Crows.
Book : I'm currently reading Eat, Pray, Love. I'm about half way done, and it's fantastic. I've been carrying it with me so I can read it whenever I have a chance, which is something I haven't done with a book in a long time.
My iPod, along with two sets of ear-buds. I carry this with me since i go to the gym most days right after I get off work. I also carry my handy dandy tank top that helps support my boobs while working out. (being well endowed in the chest does have a few disadvantages.) I have several of these tank tops and I put a new one in every time I use it.
About 4 different types of lip stuff. I have a cocoa butter chap-stick, a medicated chap-stick, a lipstick wand, and a sparkle lip gloss.
Package of Extra Spearmint gum. Fingernail file. (I have discovered that I'm less likely to chew my nails if I can file them when they get a snag.) Headband, cough drops, and my steroid skin cream for my eczema. (I carry this with me in the winter because any sort of irritant will make it look like I've been cutting my arms and face up with paper. If I can get something on it right away, it helps with swelling.)
And finally, a necessity for any woman, a little carrying case that has a couple panty liners, and tampons in it.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Day 11 – Your siblings
A few days ago, I wrote of my best friend S. I failed to mention that I also have another best friend, my sister A.
A was born three and a half years after me. She was the baby of the family. My mother came from a family with two girls, and I know it meant a lot to her to have two girls as well.
A and I didn't always get along very well. A lot of our childhood was spent with her tailing after me, and me trying to rid myself of her. I wasn't exactly the best of big sisters, but I did have her back, and I think she knows that. If other people were to pick on her, they would get the brunt of sisterly force. Because, dammit, she was my sister and if anyone was going to pick on her, it was going to be me!
We were polar opposites. I was content to sit inside listening to music, reading a book. A wanted to be outside, in the dirt, in the garage. She built things. She was a daddy's girl. It wasn't until I finally moved out of the house that she and I became friends.
At that time, I was the older sister who could drive and had my own apartment. I was the perfect person to find someone to buy her beer, or a place to hide out when our parents got to be too much for her. I was always the go-to when there was a party she wanted to go to, but needed a place to say she was staying. Of course, she was never as good at lying as I was, and usually got caught. My mother was pretty sneaky herself.
A liked punk music. She liked harder rock, and scream-o. Her junior year of high school she cut her hair into a mohawk. She would dye it black. She wore all black.
She was a junior in high school the year Aiden was born. She has been the world's greatest Aunt to him.
While I had a child a year after graduating high school, A went away for college. She went all the way to Tulsa, OK and graduated with a degree in Avionics from Spartan College of Aeronautics. There, she met her boyfriend. They both were hired onto a very good company in Iowa, and made the move there together. The transition was difficult for her, but she has really found her place. They bought a house there late last year. I'm assuming there will eventually be a ring, and a wedding, but for now they seem to be happy with where they are together.
A has done all of the right things, the right way. Even though I'm the older sister, I feel like I'm constantly three steps behind her. Like it should be my job to take care of my baby sister. To offer her money when she needs it, even if she never accepts it. Not the other way around. I envy my sister her choices, and her place in life. I also am so proud of her for them.
She is always only a phone call away. I know this. She is the best of the best of friends, because I know she loves me despite all of my flaws (and she knows them all.) She is my strength and my courage and my inspiration. She is the person who will call me after a boy breaks my heart, and cry on the phone with me.
She makes me laugh. I love her.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Day 10 – What you wore today
Dark grey sweat pants, blue and white striped ankle socks, black workout reversible hoodie, my new nike's.
I bought Aiden a new bike today, and we went out to the middle school track next to our apartment complex. He rode and I walked/jogged. It's the first time I've really attempted jogging since I hurt my legs this last summer. It felt amazing. Hoping for many more nice days this next week.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Day 09 – Your beliefs
I believe that M&Ms are an adequate breakfast food on Saturday mornings. I believe that a hot bath and a good book can cure nearly any physical ailment. I believe that beer, if used correctly, can help in the healing of your heart. I believe that music can speak more powerfully to us than anything else, because often times, it says exactly what we are feeling, but are incapable of expressing ourselves.
I believe that women own the rights to their own bodies. If a woman gets pregnant, regardless of the circumstances, I believe that she has a right to terminate that pregnancy if she so chooses, regardless of her reasons. Do I think abortion should be used as birth control? No. But I do think that people make bad choices and bad decisions. They also take every precaution and accidents happen. I believe I'm allowed this opinion, because I once had to make that choice. I chose to keep my child, and it was one of the hardest and more heart wrenching decisions I have ever had to make. But it was mine to make, no one else's.
I believe that breast is best. I know there are certain situations and medical conditions where it is not advised to breast feed a child, and in those instances, I understand. What i do not understand is the women with no desire to even try. I applaud the women who at least try, find out it isn't for them, and move on. What I do not understand, is the lack of any attempt at all. Breast fed baby's skin is so much softer. Not to mention the HUGE perk of not having to pay all that money for pricey formula that basically makes your child's diaper a toxic waste dump. The first time i changed a child's diaper that was formula fed, I ran to the bathroom to vomit. It was disgusting.
I believe that two men, or two women, should be able to marry each other if they so choose. I don't care who you go to bed with. I don't care who you kiss goodbye in the morning when you leave for work. If you are loved, and in love, you should have that right. If Britney Spears is allowed to get married, EVERYONE should be allowed to get married.
I believe that the color of your hair, eyes, or skin, does not determine your worth as a person. Neither does having a penis. I have never had a penis and I function just fine without it. Neither does your weight.
I believe that Scientology is the biggest crock of poo that I've ever heard of, but I do believe that people have the right to believe in it.
I believe that speech is free, but does carry with it responsibility. Much like super powers, if you're going to say something, you better be able to carry any repercussions with you for the rest of your life.
I believe that love is infinite. I believe you can love different people in a million different ways. I believe in love outside of family, or sexual relationships. I believe that sometimes family are the ones you choose.
Now, onto the topic of religion. I'm not going to say that I do, or do not believe in God. I do not, however, believe that any of the world's religions have gotten it right. I do not believe that Jesus is the one and only way into heaven. I believe in the Golden Rule, and being a naturally good person. I think there is something more than us, whether that is God, or just a form of space type mice, I'm not sure. I think human beings need that concept of God in order to explain their own miserable lives. I think people cling to it, for hope in an otherwise dim world. I'm also extremely well read when it comes to the Christian bible, and it does contradict itself. I do believe that people have the right to believe in it, even if I do not.
I never found solace in religion. It never seemed like a safe place for me. Too many of my views seemed to contradict a lot of what was being taught. Friends and I would argue the points, with neither of us really being able to offer anything to the other , other than our own deeply seeded opinions. Church was always so BORING to me. The services that added bands, and chanting, and speaking in tongues just freaked me out. Nothing ever said in a church ever REALLY stuck with me after walking out.
And finally, I believe that Taylor Hanson is, and will probably always be, one of the most beautiful men I have ever laid my eyes on.
Friday, February 11, 2011
When I wrote in my private (well, more private) journal, doing the 30 days, on day 8 I wrote about something funny Aiden had said to me in the car that day. Something vaguely hilarious, and totally showed the inner workings of a child's brain and his heart. He didn't say anything too terribly funny today. He still isn't feeling completely better and more than anything gave me attitude most of the day.
The only thing I can think to write about was the night, two weeks ago, when B walked into my apartment not carrying his overnight bag, and how I knew right then that it was over. I didn't even have to ask him, though I did, because some part of me needed to hear it out loud. However, that's much too new and I have had far less time to stew over it, over-analyze it, and come up with the perfect words for it. So, I have decided to share another older writing of mine (back when I was far more cynical, and seemed to have a handle on my poetic side, much more than I do now... being a mother sucks that out of you.) I'm not sure if it's something that actually happened, or something I just thought up in my head, and it sounded so pretty that I had to write it down. Needless to say, this is my moment, real or imagined...
He sleeps lightly, and she knows this. His breathing is as soft and even as her own as he lays on their bed with his back to her, his shoulders and hips raising the covers up into twin mountains between them. She runs her fingers softly over his bare side, feeling all of his fuzz and fury with a single touch, and she can still smell his scent etched into her pillow case, stained into the stuffing of her pillow. She lay her cheek onto it, and whispers softly, "I love you" not sure if he would hear it as a dream, or not at all.
Her legs ached from work and lack of sleep, and nothing more than a good night's rest would cure all of the things she listed off on her fingers and toes that ached about her. Her hands, her back, her mind. Nothing seemed as it should be.
It was barely dark enough to be called so, yet here they both were, stripped down and under the covers as if it were later than usual. The crickets weren't yet strumming their lullabies. A short cigarette out on the patio and she would be ready for another day, another hour, another lost moment with this man.
"There is nothing particularly special about either one of us," she thought to herself, "but maybe that's why I continue to pretend that he means so much." Not that she would ever tell him any differently. He doesn't deserve to hear such things, just as she isn't a woman who deserves to think them. "Nothing is ever right, and there isn't a single thing anyone of us is able to do about that." Change, the only constant the world has ever known.
She crawls back in between the mountain and falls asleep easily with the smell of lilac in her hair, and the promise that things will be different, in some other place that she'll never even have the joy of seeing or knowing.
The grass is so much greener when you're not the one behind the mower.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Day 07 – Your best friend
S was my best friend, before I even knew the definition of best friend.
The first time I met her was on the playground at daycare when we were 4 years old. She and her brother were new to the daycare, and me being the seasoned veteran that I was, decided to take it upon myself to introduce the new kids to my turf. "Can I play with you?" I asked them, as they were playing in the sand. "NO!" S yelled at me, throwing sand. After that we were pretty much inseparable.
As luck would have it, after a year of being in daycare together, and my family moved into the house just three doors down from S's and her family. She ran, barefoot, down the sidewalk to greet us the first night we pulled into our new driveway.
She was skinny, dark hair and complexion. Beautiful, if not for the terrible haircuts her father insisted on giving her.
We would build forts in the neighbor's bushes, hang nets from her backyard trees for hammocks to lay on, and sneak into her brother's room when he wasn't home or wasn't looking.
We both got 2 wheel bikes for christmas in first grade. S taught herself how to ride by scooting around the block, using the curb for support.
We had sleepovers, and dinners together, and we fought. We would fight over who got to be the baby when we played house. We fought over whose name got to be "Elizabeth" because that apparently was the best name to have. We would fight over whose barbies we got to play with, what we were going to have for lunch, and who was in charge. We were both very dominant personalities, and we constantly fought for the other one to hand over control.
Of course, we got along famously, too. We were a force to be reckoned with, when we were pitted against a common enemy. Our most common of enemies? Our siblings.
S has an older brother, and we assumed that everything he did was WAY cool, and something we needed to be in on. He of course, constantly dismissed us, would run off to play with his much cooler, much older friends, and we were left trying to fry bugs on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass, with no idea on how to catch the sun.
I have a younger sister. She always thought WE were the cool ones. She always wanted to tag along, and sometimes my mother would force us to bring her with us on our adventures. Most of the time we could force her into the roll of "butler" to do our bidding. She was always more than happy to oblige.
S and I learned how to cheat at nearly every board game, ever. When she and I played against someone else, we always won. Though not by the noblest of means, but we considered ourselves to be pretty clever all the same.
Shortly after the start of our 5th grade year, and we were hit with the most terrible of news that any two friends who were 10 and swore to be BFFs could ever get... S and her family were moving.
I helped them pack up their moving van, and I even rode down to spend the first night in their new house with them. We tangled ourselves together in her room that night, all lanky arms and legs and wet, tear-soaked hair, and we swore to stay in touch. To call, to write, to visit. At 10 years old, losing your best friend to a two hour drive is the end of the world.
Over the next seven years, S and I stayed in touch. We wrote letters, we phoned each other on a semi-regular basis. The saving grace of the entire friendship was that my mother had accepted a position in her town, and commuted two hours every morning. It worked perfectly for my mom to bring S home with her on a Friday night, and for S to ride back with her the next Monday morning.
I visited mostly in the summer, and over winter breaks. In the summer, S and I would rub Crisco all over our budding bodies and lay outside of her apartment pool for hours on end until we were so crisp from the sun, we couldn't move for the next two days. We would sleep on the balcony, and play hide and seek at night with her brother and his older friends. It was at fourteen that we snuck our first few drops of alcohol at a road party her brother had taken us to. It was all of a sudden "cool" for him to be hanging out with his baby sister and her friend.
We would ride our bikes all over town, hang out at the mall playing video games and eating chewy pretzels. We played video games on the super nintendo, and swam all day long.
S came to live with my family the summer of 2000. Her parents were planning to move again. It was just before I started my senior year of high school, and due to the transition, her parents working, her brother having gone away for school, and she had nowhere to be.
I worked part time at the Country Kitchen, she hung out with some other friends from here in town while I was working. When I wasn't, we would drive. We drove and we smoked and we drank. We talked to men twice our age and would talk them into buying us beer. We would hunt boys during the evenings, and when that never panned out, we would hang out at my friend J's house. His mom would let us smoke, occasionally share her weed, and we could pretty much do whatever it is we wanted to do.
As that summer came to an end, I went to Lincoln with S for her first few days at her new school. Her parents were still transitioning between jobs, and they weren't in town. I stayed at the house with her. I got up with her when she got up for school in the morning. I made her coffee, and we smoked our cigarettes. I would drive her to school, and pick her up at the end of the day. Leaving her there was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life.
Over the next two years before she graduated in 2002, and we spent nearly every weekend together. Between me driving there, or her driving here there were very few important moments we missed in each other's lives. S was here for my graduation, I was there for hers. We spent most of the summers together. We went and got our first tattoos together.
A week after she graduated, and we had signed a lease for an apartment back in my town. We broke it to her parents by showing up at their place with her boyfriend's pickup truck (he lived here.) We moved in together, and pretty soon after, we stopped getting along. Her boyfriend and I didn't like each other. I didn't like that he was there ALL THE TIME. He ate our food, he used our hot water, and he didn't pay for any of it.
She started locking her bedroom door. I lost my job. I started locking myself in my bedroom, thinking of ways to kill myself. That April, she sat next to me in the bathroom when I found out I was pregnant. She started giving me some leeway, even though I planned on moving back home as soon as our lease was up.
She and I hardly spoke anymore. It wasn't until I had Aiden and she would visit me that we actually started to reconnect. She sat next to me on my bed the day my milk came in, and watched as I breast fed my son for the first time. She watched Aiden when I had to work.
She got engaged, and asked me to be her maid of honor.
S became a mom nearly two years ago. Her daughter was born on the same day I quit smoking. Her and her husband will be parents for the second time late this summer.
We don't talk often, but we do talk deeply. We have the connection that two people are able to share over time and distance.
She is the person who probably knows me the best, because she knew the me I was, before I became the me I am now.
I've been going through some old stuff on my computer in the last couple of days, and I decided that I wanted to share some of it here. Granted, I'll never share all of it, as admittedly, some of it is really, REALLY bad. That being said, this one goes with today's theme, which I will post later tonight.
they were two girls, doing nothing but wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles at walmart. not looking for anything in particular, just looking, just spending time together.
they used to run down to each other’s houses in the summer with their bare feet hitting on the pavement. scraped knees were the worst things that could ever happen, and they slept in the same bed all weekend long.
she was a sun kissed child of the 80s and i was her best friend. nothing could come between us. we laughed at things that weren’t funny, and back then we would wave at the cops that drove by instead of hiding our cigarettes carefully under the seat while we got pulled over so as not to get in trouble.
the first time the sweetness of alcohol touched my lips she and i sat cross-legged in her brother’s pick-up truck. we both had shorts and tank tops on, and we passed it back and forth between us like it was some secret that was too private to talk about. we were lanky fourteen year olds then. time changes everything, heals all wounds, rips them back open. we never grew apart.
we lived together for a summer, staying out until five in the morning, and parking in the backyard so my parents wouldn’t see the headlights of her car when we got home. we would take naps at five in the afternoon and we went boy hunting every night.
she was with me when i met him. i wouldn’t have met him if she hadn’t seen two of our other friends that he was with. she nodded slightly as we drove around in the car as i staked my claim on him, who would know that he would cause 6 months of happiness and 8 months of pain. she was the person i called crying so hard that i couldn’t breathe the day he broke my heart. she was the one who kissed my scars and made me feel better.
she and i drove around last summer and barked at people out car windows and flirted with men twice our age. she made fun of me when i pressed the print button on the machine at walmart and ended up printing 80 pages of a wedding gift registry. we hung the papers from the basement door as if they were a curtain. we laughed for days about it.
she was the one who told me i breathe too loud. and she’s the one that talks in her sleep.
it’s hard to be around her now sometimes. she’s found someone to love. someone other than me, and sometimes i miss her more than anything. but most times i know she’ll be there if i ever need her, and i know she knows i love her.
but i still remember her as the skinny brunette hanging from the swing set. the one i cut holes into bushes with for forts. the one who has and will always be my best friend.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I woke up half an hour earlier than usual today, and attempted to do Jillian Michael's 30 day shred. I learned that I'm nowhere near coordinated enough to attempt compound movements before I've had my morning coffee. It was a struggle to make it though, but I did.
I woke Aiden up around 6:20, and even though the last medicine I had given him was at 7 pm the night before, he wasn't running a fever.
I showered, we both got dressed, I packed my lunch and we were out the door. I dropped Aiden off at his before school program right at 7 when their doors opened, and I headed to work. I clocked in at 7:05 (it was COLD out this morning!)
I changed into the hospital green scrubs, and went to work breaking down the skids. All of our supplies are shipped in daily on pallets, or skids, each in a labeled tote or box to whichever designated floor or unit it was ordered for.
I made my nice and neat stacks, apologized to coworkers for missing yesterday and the miscommunication that went along with it. After I was done unloading pallets, I stacked the wooden skids on top of each other, and I loaded up my first trip to my floors, which was and usually is ICU. I didn't have much that was ordered, but I ran my reports and pulled several things from our stat room that also needed to go upstairs.
I issued these things out on the computer, and I waited for Tancy to come in. She and I usually take breakfast between 8:30 and 9, but today I was set to have an interview in my department for a Coordinator position.
Unfortunately at around 8:20 I got a phone call from the school nurse at Aiden's school. She told me that because he had been diagnosed with the flu, he HAD to be out of school until he had been fever free for AT LEAST 24 hours. She asked me to please pick him up. So I left work, and picked Aiden up from school. We made a trip to wal-mart to get various supplies, and to check out a couple of movies from the Red Box.
We came home, and have pretty much been sitting on the couch the rest of the day. We both took a nap around noon, watched some television, read a couple of books. We ate left-over pizza for dinner, and now he's watching television while I type this up. When I'm finished, he'll be on his way to bed.
Luckily he doesn't have school tomorrow or friday, but he does have the after school program, which runs all day long. He's been feeling fine all day, and even his cough has dissipated. I understand them not wanting him to be at school, but at the same time, he's better. Not that I'm going to complain about an extra day off work, but I can't really afford it, either.
Here's to a full day tomorrow!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
I fell in love for the first time in seven years this fall. I fell hard and fast and deep. The breakup is still new and fresh to me, and I'm giving myself time to heal from it, however there are some things about this that are new to me. I'm not sure if it comes from maturity, or the fact that I have now loved for the first time as an adult, rather than as a child.
I have no desire to bad mouth him. I think he is a terrific person, loving father, and that he's just going through a rough patch. I want him to be happy, even if that means being without me. I have no desire to call him names, belittle his short comings, or make him feel bad about his decision to break things off. I still love him.
Love is sacrificing of yourself for someone else's happiness. A lot of the time, your happiness and theirs goes hand in hand, but true love is going through the bad times.
My son is currently sitting in the living room, covered in blankets, running a 100.8 degree temperature. He spent the majority of last night coughing until he vomited. I cleaned it up. I love my son, even when I don't really like him. Even when he says mean things just to hurt my feelings, and even when he's a gross boy who likes to wipe his boogers on the furniture. I love him when he wakes me up in the middle of the night from the best dream I've ever had, because he had a nightmare.
I don't always love the things he does or the way he acts, but I will ALWAYS love HIM.
Loving someone is about wanting to shield them from all of the bad and scary things in the world. It's knowing that you can't save or protect them from everything, but wanting to do it anyway.
Love is forever.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Day 04 – What you ate today
2 cups black coffee
1 fiber one 90 calorie bar
33oz cold water
1 bagel thin with low-fat cream cheese and 1 oz strawberry jelly
33 oz cold water
3 oz baby carrots
1.5 cup low-fat chicken and black bean soup
1 slice skinny corn bread
8 oz chocolate silk soy milk
2 cups homemade macaroni and cheese
1 cup broccoli florets
1 can coke zero
reese's peanut butter cup :)
I may have a glass of wine later tonight, as I'm not working tomorrow. Aiden has the flu (influenza-b) and I think I'm going to stay up late and watch movies. Might add some popcorn as well!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Day 03 – Your parents
My mother is Jan, my father is David (NOT Dave.) They have been married for over thirty years, and are each other's best friend.
My mother works for an agency for the state, my father works for the local university. Both of them work with and for people with disabilities.
They are my ultimate strength. They are also two of my best friends.
They both enjoy drinking beer and laughing. The Friday night and Sunday afternoon ritual usually involves some sort of micro brewery.
My mother and I butt heads a lot. Most of this I attribute to us being so much alike. We are both extremely strong women who have trouble apologizing or taking blame for things we don't feel to be our fault. We both have addictive personalities, though hers tends to be more wide ranged than mine.
My father is one of the most gentle men I have ever known. I find this an extremely attractive trait in men, and I love that my dad has been able to pass this on to my son. Dad and Aiden are the best of friends. My father (having had two daughters, and never a son) has really been able to shine though being the grandpa of a little boy. They can do boy things together like go fishing, camping, and play in the mud. My father is the one person who is able to channel a lot of Aiden's energy into constructive means; scooping the snow, drilling screws into a piece of wood, hammering nails.
One of my favorite memories of my mother is as my labor coach when I had Aiden. She was there every step of the way, putting up with my terrible mood swings, delirium, and pregnancy gas. I spend two hours pushing, and she almost passed out a couple of times because she had been pushing too. She also stuck her head between my legs to announce "I see his hair!" How many people can say their mother has done THAT?
My favorite memory of my father was him taking me shopping for a dress for a wedding. I was in 4th grade and had just started getting little boob bumps. I was more embarrassed than anything to be clothing shopping with my father. He picked out this dress, and had me try it on. It was tea length, black with white polka dots and a red ribbon. It was perfect. He was so proud to have been able to take his little girl dress shopping and actually come home with the perfect outfit. We also picked out a little hat to go with it, and pinned a red flower to the brim. This was the man who attempted to put my hair into a ponytail once, and never again, because he couldn't do it. He brought up the dress story to me only a few months ago, and his face still glowed when he talked about it.
My mother graduated from college just a few years ago, having spent the years taking a class or two at night during each semester, working full time, and raising a household. She is my hero.
My parents met in high school, married young, and have managed to beat most of the odds their entire life. I can only hope that when I meet the man I'm meant to spend my life with, that I'll be able to have the love the two of them still do, after thirty years.
Friday, February 4, 2011
I have had some very intense relationships in my life. I have an addictive personality, and I tend to fall in love with certain things that I know in my right mind I can never have. I once wrote a letter to Michael Jackson, professing my love to him and asking him if I could have an autographed photo, because that would somehow show that he loved me too.
I fell in love with Taylor Hanson at the ripe age of 14. When you decorate your bedroom walls (and ceilings and doors and blinds) with someone's face, that is obviously true love.
I loved a few boys through high school. Most of these, looking back, were more out of my desire to have attention from men than actually being in love. One was my best friend, and I mistook that for something else. One only wanted my attention when he didn't get attention from anyone else.
It wasn't until my senior year of high school that I finally was able to say that I had not only fallen in love, but it was reciprocated.
BJ and I met through mutual friends, and I was the one who kissed him first.
He was beautiful, and personable. My family and my friends liked him. He was loud in a way I wasn't, good at working with his hands in a way I'm not, and more than anything else he made me feel alive.
I was a different person back then, and I was more concerned with what he wanted me to be than what I wanted for myself. I chose to stay in town for college, for him. Our relationship went south shortly after graduation. We were both extremely jealous people, and we would pick at old scars until the wound was gaping open waiting for salt to be thrown in. I would hang out with other boys that he didn't trust. He wouldn't answer his phone when he was supposed to be available.
The last couple of weeks of our relationship, and all we did was fight.
He ended it, a week after his birthday, summer of 2001. I was devastated.
I smashed all of the blue bottles he had given me, held his class ring hostage, would call him at random hours crying hysterically. The night of our breakup and he slept with one of my good friends. Things were never the same after that.
Over the last ten years, BJ (who goes by Brandon now) and I have managed to rebuild our friendship from the ground up. He was there for me through my entire pregnancy, and was actually the first person other than my family to meet Aiden. He sat in the delivery room with me after I had given birth and watched me eat my french toast while the epidural wore off.
He's married with two little girls who are the spitting image of him. To this day, he is still one of the people who knows me the best.
Through him I have discovered that sometimes, the person we wanted them to be, they already are. We just have to let them go, and let them shine alone for that person to come true.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
I have decided to take this blog in a new direction. I left up my first two posts, because they seemed to be more of what I was hoping this place would be. A place for me to talk, without shame of having others read it. So, I'm starting over.
I am not an author, but I have been told that I am able to paint a very nice picture with the things I have to say. There is no better way to get better at writing, than practice.
I started the 30-day challenge back at my private journal, and only made it up to about day 15. I am going to try it again, writing about different experiences along the way.
Day 01 - Introduce yourself
Hi. My name is Sadie. I'm currently 27 years old, and I live in a small town in the middle of Nebraska. I am a Supply Chain Tech at the hospital, which basically means I order, and put away, and maintain inventories on my specified floors. There are a lot of other aspects to my job, but that is the most basic of explanations.
I am a single mother to a very energetic little 7 year old boy. His name is Aiden, and I will speak of him often, sometimes fondly, sometimes I'm sure not quite so much. Aiden was born with bilateral clubfoot, which basically means that his achilles tendon was too short and not attached to his bones properly causing his foot to be malformed. He went through serial casting until the age of 1, has had three surgeries with another possible one sometime next winter, and it has NEVER slowed him down. A lot of this has been attributed to me not letting it slow him down. He was army crawling before most kids were regular crawling. He also has incredible upper body strength and control. He is truly the light of my life.
I am the oldest in a family of two girls. My sister is 24 and has accomplished more in her life than I could ever hope of doing. I am so proud of her I could burst. She is my best friend. My immediate family and I are very close. Both of my parents alive and happily married. They are each other's best friends, which is how it should be. They are my solid rocks, and my shoulders. I love them. I only hope that I am able to pass this love of family onto my son, though I think I already have.
I love to read, and to write. I am a movie and television addict, and there are not enough hours in my day to fill with the lives of other people. I have started cooking recently, as well. I have found my love for cooking soups and basic comfort food dishes. Also, not to brag, but I'm pretty good with desserts, too. My favorite color is blue, cobalt preferably.
I have an extended family of my friends, who are the most devoted and supportive people I have ever had the honor of meeting. I have been told that I am a fierce friend, and in expecting nothing but that, I have managed to surround myself with these fabulous people who only add life and color to my world. I don't know what I would do without any of them.
I have taken classes at the university here in town, but never graduated. There are so many things that I would like to do, that I've never been able to narrow it down. College is expensive.
I am trying to better myself through my overall health, and also my mental stability. I am trying to take time for myself, making time for my son, and not accepting anything to be mediocre. I don't need a fairy tale, but I do deserve better than a frog prince.
I like Bud Light, Coke Zero, and Cinnamon Schnapps (not together.) I also love steak with baked potatoes, and good soup. I cry at movies and television easily. I have a tough skin, but a soft heart. I am extremely liberal.
I still talk to friends online that I met back in 1997 when I first got the internet. Some I have met in person, some I have not. Some I talk to on the phone, some of them I'm not even sure what they look like.
So, I would love it if you were able to join me in my journey of betterment through words. Stick around, and I might surprise you.