In the newfound fuzzy that comes with two kids in diapers and Desitin, I did something really dumb about two months ago. And I really didn't have time for it.
Since Cyrus' birth, I've remembered that it is in the witching hours from 1:00 AM - 4:00 AM that a gal can really get some work done. By 'work' I mean sending emails, planning events, packing lunches or researching a new mascara. Eight hours later I grabbed my CVS coupon and the baby and I made our way to the CVS a town south. I purchased Lash Paradise in Mystic Black because you and I both know when you're 30-something and frazzled, paradise sounds like a great idea. I'm a fanatic face washer. I can count on one hand the number of times annually that I go to bed without washing my face. It's just part of my way to wash the day away.
So after my big purchase of a new mascara (I think I used my yellow tube type for probably 10 years), it took one face wash to realize I made a terrible mistake. I had bought waterproof mascara. It's one thing to cry pretty, but another to waste 45 minutes of your evening trying to get tar out of your eyelashes.
But the tube was like $10.00, so I did what any frugal, frustrated gal would do. Rather than throw it away and buy the correct type, I bought $47 worth of various eye make-up removers over three weeks until I found one that was nothing short of anointing oil and Country Crock.
After another three weeks of that bedtime fiasco (I realized there was a problem when I'd used the holy oil and lard to wash my lashes, then couldn't see well enough to climb the stairs to bed) I gave up and tossed the tube. Straight into the trash. I returned to CVS the next day and bought Lash Paradise, non-waterproof. The next evening my face-washing routine was like the good old days. The black sludge rolled down the drain and I was reminded why a concealer is no longer an option. I was also reminded of this.
Four hours later Cyrus was admitted, and by default I was, too. We got into an actual inpatient room at 3:30 AM. Cyrus was finally asleep and I wanted so badly to join him. I was so surprised by how awake, friendly and active the nurses were. I guess had forgotten there is an entire species that works diligently and tirelessly while I am home sound asleep.
I’m thankful for those folks who work off of a very different clock than I. When I was at my worst: worried, exhausted, and hungry (shocking, I know), these people made me feel at ease. And they brought me a 4:00 AM snack. I will never view nurses in the same way again, because they do so much more.
“This has got to be the loneliest place on earth, and still, they won’t leave us alone,” I thought to myself on the second night at Reid. For four days and three nights I only put Cyrus down if they had to change his IV, during the spinal tap or if I was in the bathroom. But even with his tiny body close, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so lonely. This experience offered a whole new perspective regarding those who spend much time in a hospital or those with sick children.
There was constant beeping, checking, monitoring, waking, adjusting, and prodding, still I felt like we were a million miles from home or anyone we knew. I was a mere 25 minutes from home and husband. Over the last seven months, I’ve communicated more with Morgan than anyone from high school. I’ve found her to be a source of comfort (“Can you believe we’re in our last trimester already?
The end is near!”), reassurance (“I asked my doctor about that and he said it is completely normal”), insight (“I have a recipe you have to try”), humor (“You will not believe what I did today.”), and company (“I hope I’m not waking you, but you’re probably awake, anyway.”). She has become the new friend I never thought I’d need at 34-years-old. Motherhood is quite lonely, even if you’ve not technically been alone for four weeks, two days and seventeen hours (not that I’m counting).
But I’ll tell you, having someone in the trenches with you makes it a whole lot better. If you look at Morgan and I’s paths to today, they’re drastically different in schooling, careers, relationships, and beyond. We've never once talked about high school or the years that fall into the 15-year gap since we spent 45-minute classes together. We only talk about today. Or, last night.
Jeans For Boots Men
I’m grateful that we had one similarity, strangely aligned more than a decade after high school. It’s been a fantastic, ongoing class reunion. And, a great lesson to remember when my daughter comes home upset with classmate. I'll now have a story in my back pocket that I can share. 'Don't be mean to her, she may be your lifeline down the road. Let me tell you about a girl named Morgan.'
I have never thought of myself as an individual with an entitlement complex, but I do remember certain experiences where I'd like to go back and kick my own butt. One happened just this morning, so I guess that's why I'm writing today. My first job out of college took me back to a place I swore I'd never live again: Washington, DC. I had interned there one summer and enjoyed it, but certainly didn't catch the 'Potomac fever' as many often did.
But one year later, the job I wanted to launch my career required I move back to the east coast; I packed a UHaul and my Ford Focus and began my career on Ave. I remember rinsing out the office coffee pot at the end of a really bad day, thinking to myself, 'I did not go to Purdue University for four years and earn a degree to do this.' After a few minutes of scrubbing the pot in my heels and then wiping down the countertops, I remember thinking: 'Your father would absolutely kill you if he knew those words were going through your head right now. You were raised better' It's funny how sometimes your upbringing can shout at you from the back of your mind when you're 518 miles from anything you've ever known. And do you know what?
The next day was better. And the day after that was better. And day, after day, I learned to be grateful for discomfort on the long days because it made the good days that much better. It also proved that I'm capable of anything. Including washing a coffee pot I never poured a cup from. I also learned how to make coffee at my first job.
We live in a society where discomfort is associated with suffering. People no longer want to experience any discomfort or inconvenience, at all. We expect heated steering wheels and seats. We no longer drive to a movie store or even a Red Box; we hit 'download' and have whatever we want on our living room big screen. We have thirty pairs of shoes because each feels different on our feet when the temperature swings by ten degrees.
Hp bddvdrw ch20l drivers for mac download. We don't pay attention to landmarks or even keep a map in the console because we can type an address into our phones and be spoon fed step-by-step directions. We expect our professional careers to be constant climbing and measurements of success because we've studied and worked hard and deserve it.
The truth is that sometimes you have to go into situations understanding that: Challenging jobs, college experiences, buying our not-such-a-dream home, but rather the one we can afford skipping a vacation, a lemon of a used car, or taking the long way are all things that might not be comfortable, but they will allow us to grow in unforeseeable ways. Someone asked me recently how I've come up with content for a blog for eight straight years.
Well, sometimes I try to be my own life coach and talk myself off a ledge by typing away on this keyboard. Because as I type this, our kitchen sink and counter tops are sitting in the yard and will be there over night. A small kitchen project turned a regular Monday into the most Monday-est Monday, ever and this morning I washed breakfast dishes in the 6:00 AM darkness by garden hose while the barn cats watched, smirking. There are little eyes upon you, who think you’re the best, the expert, maybe even an idol of theirs.
Perhaps the greatest swine showman or steer fitter or wood worker or cake baker they’ve ever seen. They already know your name, probably your club or your state association. There is someone who would love to say hello to you, to learn from you, or someone who may just stop by your stall to watch you work. Get to know them.
Show them how. Show them what kindness is. Last Friday the Wayne County 4-H Fair Queen Contest committee hosted a reception for all sixty former Wayne County 4-H Fair Queens at Centerville High School. The earliest queen in attendance was 1959 – how awesome is that? I attended hoping to visit with gals I hadn’t seen in a long time, but also to officially meet Polly. I wanted to thank her for influencing my actions so many years ago.
She wasn’t in attendance. I did take a look at the historic wall hanging they had on display to confirm just how old I was when Polly Powell was queen. It was 1992; I was just shy of 8 years old. To pass time in the late 80's, early 90's, we'd use Dad's commercial grade walkie-talkies to contact truckers passing by.under the condition, of course, that we never told the truckers where we were located. We'd often ask the drivers where they were heading to, coming from or hauling. If really feeling ornery (quite often), we'd taunt them and tell them we heard truck driver wore pantyhose.
Boots For Jeans For Women
This is the exact reason why we couldn't reveal our location: I guess mom didn't want a fleet of semi's lining our road, trying to track down mouthy kids. There are several groups I’m learning to engage in less often (this means learning to say no to a commitment or not volunteering simply because no one else will) during this stage of life. They’re each wonderful groups which have a special place in our livelihood, but right now they’re just not at the top of my priority list when it comes to time, energy or attention. It is a tough lesson to learn by someone who has always been involved in so much, but the choice has afforded me more slowed, intentional, quality time with the brown eyed brunette that I live with.
Actually, both of them. This was my first experience with jury duty, so I read from front to back the handy booklet they give you at check-in. I was especially interested in the glossary in the back, so I could at least pretend to know what they were talking about. I usually have the Dateline cases solved by the time we get to this point in the show, so I needed to brush up a bit.
The judge weeded through the fodder pretty quickly once we got started. He asked if anyone was currently convicted of a felony or on probation. As fate might have it, the gentleman to my left was excused during that time. I have a real knack for picking a seat. Down the line we were asked if we knew anyone in law enforcement well enough that our opinion could be swayed, or we could obtain special information about the case.
I was shocked at how many people in our random sample of fifty folks are related to police officers. My personal favorite example was the gal whose great uncle was a traffic cop. With more questioning, we learned he died three years ago, so she felt confident she could keep quiet about the case, should she be selected as one of the twelve. I considered raising my hand and telling the judge that my date to the winter semi-formal dance my senior year of high school is now an undercover officer, but I didn't want to get into the messy details of adolescence. Four selected jurors were quite vocal in their belief that the defendant was guilty until proven innocent (rather than innocent until proven guilty) so that got them on the fast track for dismissal. I wondered what jaded life experience had gotten the four to that point, but I didn't ask questions. By this time, we were an hour into the process and nine seats remained open.
My goal was to avoid all eye contact so perhaps they would forget I was there. While sitting on the sidelines, admittedly just waiting for my name to be called, I thought about all the things I could - and should - have been doing on that Monday: Exploring outside with Caroline Visiting Grandma Writing scripts for three agronomy videos to be shot next week Answering Monday morning emails Grocery shopping Laundry to the line Prepping dinner Rescheduling a dentist appointment Creating marketing pieces for a February 2019 event and so much more. Instead, I sat in a hot, old room waiting to be casted onto the 2018 version of. Then came Roger.
Roger was probably fifty-five, but on this particular day he appeared to be closer to seventy-five. He moved extremely slowly to the jury box and wasn't stable when moving between the rows of chairs.
His hair was unkept. His sweatshirt had stains down the front. She was unshaven.
His white K-Swiss shoes were grass stained. The judge asked Roger if there was any reason why he couldn't serve on a jury for the next three days.
'I'm having a hard time staying awake. I'll admit, I fell asleep during the movie, here in the beginning,' he went on to quietly tell the judge. 'Sir, you'll have to speak up.
This is being recorded and we cannot make out what you're saying. Do you have a special circumstance that is making you so tired this morning?' The judge asked. 'I went to work at 10:00 last night. Got off at 7:00.I went to my mother's and gave her a bath.I'm trying to get her into a nursing home but I can't afford that right now.Then I came here. I'm just tired,' Roger finished, slowly and still a bit muffled.
'When do you go back to work?' Asked the judge. 'Tonight.at 10:00,' Roger said with his head down. Instantly, my better-things-to-do list became incredibly insignificant and trivial. I became sincerely grateful for a night of rest with Caroline's sleep talking as my only interruption.
I closed my eyes and prayed for Roger, his mother, and rest for both. I prayed that God would bless him in a special way this week. Roger was dismissed. I hope he went straight home and slept before reporting back to work. Two other men were dismissed from duty because they admitted that if they didn't report to work that day, they would not have the funds to pay child support.
My case for inconvenience was growing weaker and weaker. One lady admitted she has trouble paying attention, and if they put her in a room with windows for three days, all she'll do is watch the leaves blow in the breeze. The entire east wall of the courtroom was windows.
She was sent on her merry way. One by one, the selection process narrowed down the pool of viable jury candidates. I became more vested in the process because I realized I was quite capable of serving in such a way. Caroline was taken care of for the day, dentist appointments could be rescheduled, I have a good sense of right from wrong, and I was capable of listening to facts and making my own judgement. Of the fifty or so who walked into the courthouse that morning, only seven were left as unselected.
I was one of the seven. I took three flights of marble steps to the ground floor and texted Cody, letting him know I was able to communicate again. I blew out of those courthouse doors like a free woman.
A free woman with a realization that God has a way of putting life's troubles, worries and problems in perspective. It took me over four hours of sitting and listening to strangers' experiences, priorities, home life and circumstances to realize how fortunate I am.
All of that, before a minute of testimony was heard.