Seven Things

I was tagged by the beautiful and hilarious Beth to tell you seven things about me that you might not know. There probably won’t be any surprises here to those of you who know me in real life.

1) I worked my way through college, and managed to finish without any debt. It took me 7 years to complete my Bachelor’s degree. (Hey, a lot of people go to school for 7 years! But they’re called doctors.)
2) Midway through college, I burned out on computer programming and switched my major from Computer Science to Psychology. Strangely enough, my current job has more to do with computer science than psychology. Go figure.
3) I have a weakness for good-smelling things. Lotions, perfumes, laundry detergent, etc. I know, parabens and all that, but I can’t help myself.
4) I love to read. I read so many books, that I had to start a spreadsheet to keep track of which books I’ve already read. Too often, I was getting halfway through a book and realizing I knew how it was going to end. I have another spreadsheet with my to-read list. Since there are over 2000 items on my to-read list, I don’t have the time to read books more than once, unless they’re really, really good.
5) I used to have awful eyes. So bad, that if I would put my glasses down somewhere unusual, I was up the proverbial creek without a paddle since I couldn’t see well enough to find them. Six years ago, I had Lasik surgery and I still think it’s the best thing I ever did for myself.
6) I’ve never actually fainted, but came very close twice. The first time was in high school, when the class had a “job shadow” day. I didn’t have any idea what I wanted to do with my life at the time, but I loved animals, so I thought I’d work at the vet clinic that day. I pictured getting to help take care of the animals and maybe watch a couple of examinations. When I showed up that morning, the vet informed me that he had scheduled a spaying. With the first cut of the scalpel, I got very hot and faint and started seeing black spots. I had to sit down to keep from passing out.
7) I have a tattoo. It’s a dolphin, and it’s on my leg. That was the second time that I almost fainted. I made the mistake of watching the needle go into my leg.

I'm supposed to tag seven people, but I don't think I know seven other people who haven't already been tagged. So, if you haven't already played, go ahead and post seven things about you on your blog!

Fundraisers

A few years ago, I was in college. Okay, maybe it was more like ten years ago. That's not the point. Anyway, I was having a quick lunch in-between classes at a fast-food restaurant near campus, when I was approached by a young child selling fundraiser candy bars. You know, the kind in the special wrapper that the kids sell for $1 to raise money for band or whatever. I pulled out my purse to buy a couple as he was explaining what they were for. When he came to the part about, "my mom has a new baby" and gestured toward his mother and siblings at a nearby table, I realized this wasn't a school fundraiser. It threw me for a loop, and although I did still buy a couple of candy bars, it seemed strange. I suppose it's not a lot different from panhandling, although in this case you actually get something for your money. But still, not something you see every day. (Although, just now I remembered going to Mexico and the children were selling packets of "chicle" on the street to raise money for their families. So I'll amend that to say, "not something you see every day in this country".)

Fast-forward to a couple of years ago, when Sammy started daycare. He goes to a local independent daycare center, whose owner I know quite well by now. She works at the center all day, substituting for teachers, helping out with snack time and recess time, and doing all the things that need to be done to run a business. I like her and the center quite a lot. But I was shocked the first time that Sammy came home with a fundraiser booklet. Not only that, but a suggestion from the owner/director that each family sell $200 worth of stuff. Uh, no - I am not going door to door, or putting up an order form at work, to raise funds for my children's daycare. Public schools need to do fundraisers, I understand that. They're vastly underfunded and teachers often have to purchase their own supplies. I get that, and I'm perfectly okay for buying things to support our public school system. But I already pay a lot - a LOT - of money for my private daycare, and I'm supposed to ask people to help defray my costs by buying some wrapping paper? Honestly, I'd rather just pay an extra $10 or $20 a week, if that's what it takes for the daycare to pay their bills.

From talking to other people, I've discovered this is a fairly common practice these days, but it feels horribly tacky to me. I'm not sure why, because Tupperware/Pampered Chef/etc. parties are basically fundraisers for personal profit, but that feels different to me, somehow.

Dreams Really Can Come True

I walked into the living room to see Sammy sitting on the top shelf of his toybox/bookshelf. As I opened my mouth to tell him to get down, he said "Tweet, tweet". Well, then. As long as it's just a bird in his nest, and not a little boy.

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On a totally different note, last night I was reminded of something that happened a long time ago. I had difficulty getting pregnant with Sammy, and after two years, I started to give up hope and thought it wasn't ever going to happen. I remember one night, feeling as low as I've ever felt. As I was going to sleep, I begged for help in getting through this and coming to terms with it. Call it praying, if you want. I'm not exactly religious, but I am spiritual and believe in a higher power, so the word "praying" works for me.

That night, I had a dream. I saw a little boy in my dream, standing in my kitchen and looking up at me with a big smile on his face. I knew intuitively that it was my son (and he looked just like my husband did as a child). The next morning, I woke up with a sense of peace and knew that I was someday going to have a little boy, and I just needed to be patient.

A month or two later, I found out I was pregnant. About a day after I took the test, I was shopping and bought a little blue Mickey Mouse onesie. I was that confident he was going to be a boy. Obviously, he was. I still have that blue onesie tucked away in his memento box.

When Sammy was a little over a year old, that moment that I had dreamed about happened. We were in the kitchen, and he was looking up at me and smiling, and looked exactly as he had in the dream. It still gives me chills to think about this.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I never had any such dreams about Natalie, but I understand why. That night, I really needed that reassurance more than anything. It's one of the many things that's happened in my life that confirms there IS someone watching over us.

Feeling Statue-esque

A partial list of the electronic gadgets at my house that have either been behaving badly, or entirely stopped working in the past couple of weeks: the keyboard mouse, my iPod, the starter on Ron's truck, the headlights on my vehicle, the earbuds for my iPod, BOTH digital cameras, my cell phone, and one of our clocks. And only one of these things can be traced back to an actual "event". The others spontaneously combusted, so to speak.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit grouchy about it. You know that saying, "Some days you're the pigeon, some days you're the statue"? I'm ready to be the pigeon for awhile.

The New Man of the House

Ron just started a new job, where he's working second shift. So, I'm essentially a single parent in the afternoons and evenings. The first morning of this new schedule, Ron said that he gave Sammy a talk about how he was now going to be the man of the house, and how he needed to look out for Natalie and me.

I laughed it off, thinking it was cute but that it wouldn't mean anything to Sammy. He's not even three years old yet, and he's going to understand what it means to be the man of the house?

Monday afternoon, I got home with the kids and we decided to make some crafts. I needed to make a copy of a pattern on the scanner, so I went into the office to do that, leaving the kids busily digging through the craft box. A couple of minutes later, Sammy charged down the hall past the office, muttering something about "getting her a diaper". Alarmed, I high-tailed it out of the office to see Natalie, bare naked, in the changing position on the living room floor. Since her diaper was only wet, there was no harm done and I waited to see what would happen next.

Sammy ran back down the hall with a dry diaper and looked disappointed that I had appeared. He informed me he wanted to do it all himself, and I told him to go right ahead. And he did. He needed just a little bit of help to get the diaper centered underneath her, but he completed the job by himself.

Then, at suppertime, he insisted that he needed to sit by Natalie. I traded places with him, and he helped her eat her entire supper. Then he entertained her while I did dishes.

Wow! Maybe it was just a fluke, but it seems like Ron's talk might have sunk in.

Taking Advantage of a Combative Mood

We went to a pumpkin patch on Saturday, and the kids had a great time. However, their naps ended up being delayed and then both of them were up much too late. And unlike adults, kids don't sleep later to compensate for lost sleep, so on Sunday, both were in rare form.

When naptime rolled around on Sunday, Sammy was so overtired that he couldn't settle himself down to go to sleep. He'd get out of bed, and I'd pick him up and put him right back. He'd scream, and I'd ignore. Then he'd get up again, and I'd put him back again. On and on, for about half an hour.

Finally, I had an idea. "Fine," I said. "You go play in the living room, and I'm going to take a nap."

"Nooooo!!!!!" he screeched indignantly, as he flung his head down on the pillow. Not too long later, he again started to get up. I repeated, "Fine, go play. I'm going to sleep." Again, "NOOOOOOO!!!!!!" as he plopped back down. Two minutes later? Sound asleep.

That there's reverse psychology at its finest, folks.

Helping Out

Natalie was still awake last night when I was taking my shower. I just started lathering my hair when she pulled the curtain back, spotted the water dripping from the spigot and dipped her hands into it. Then I heard her head out of the bathroom and down the hall.

Thirty seconds later, Natalie was back. She repeated her strange ritual. Thirty seconds later, again. And again. When I got out of the shower, she came into the bathroom, opened the washcloth drawer and took one out, then gestured at the faucet and said "eh, eh, eh". I asked her if she wanted me to turn it on, and she nodded her head "yes". She put the washcloth under the stream of water, looked at it and apparently decided it wasn't wet enough, and put it under the water again. When she was finally satisfied that there was enough water on the washcloth, she headed out of the bathroom and down the hall.

By this time, I was really curious so I quietly followed her. What I saw in the living room was this: The TV was tuned in to a football game. Ron was lying on the floor, staring at the TV. And Natalie was rubbing the washcloth into Ron's already-damp hair.

I guess she had decided he needed his hair washed, and was accomplishing the job slowly but surely. She must have known that Ron starts his new job today, and wanted him to look good for his first day.