Friday, August 5, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
No, I have not disappeared!!
I am still here, and I still want to blog! So here's the deal:
My baby is almost 4 months old now. Having him is the best thing I've ever done. He brings out the best in me for sure. However...having him has also stirred up so many emotions in me. These emotions are so deep and SO hard for me to put into words! My husband is having the same struggle. Basically what has happened is having this baby has forced me to deal with feelings that I have about my OWN mother. I was really not ready to face or sort out this feelings, but becoming a mother has changed me. Forever. My mother and I have always had a VERY DIFFICULT relationship. I never have understood the decisions she made with regards to her children. Now that I am a mother myself, I understand it even less. So I hope this sheds a little bit of light on why its hard for me to blog right now. Please bear with me, I'm really going to try. I know this stuff is very deep and very personal. Not nearly light hearted enough to be in a happy mommy blog. But this is what I'm dealing with right now. My husband is dealing with some of the same stuff, but he is a much stronger person than I am when it comes to emotions. I'm not sure if anyone is even still out there following or reading this blog, but there you have it. I needed to break the ice. I hope now to be able to blog blog blog away!
My baby is almost 4 months old now. Having him is the best thing I've ever done. He brings out the best in me for sure. However...having him has also stirred up so many emotions in me. These emotions are so deep and SO hard for me to put into words! My husband is having the same struggle. Basically what has happened is having this baby has forced me to deal with feelings that I have about my OWN mother. I was really not ready to face or sort out this feelings, but becoming a mother has changed me. Forever. My mother and I have always had a VERY DIFFICULT relationship. I never have understood the decisions she made with regards to her children. Now that I am a mother myself, I understand it even less. So I hope this sheds a little bit of light on why its hard for me to blog right now. Please bear with me, I'm really going to try. I know this stuff is very deep and very personal. Not nearly light hearted enough to be in a happy mommy blog. But this is what I'm dealing with right now. My husband is dealing with some of the same stuff, but he is a much stronger person than I am when it comes to emotions. I'm not sure if anyone is even still out there following or reading this blog, but there you have it. I needed to break the ice. I hope now to be able to blog blog blog away!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Macs: A doggie blog
Let me just begin by saying I have not always been a lover of animals. From the time I was a little girl, animals always made me sneeze, cough, wheeze, etc. I also found out at an early age that not all animals were nice. One summer evening when I was about five years old, a small dog came strutting down the sidewalk on Walnut Street right in front of our house. My five year old self thought "What a cute doggie!!" I then proceeded to pet the dog, and continued to pet the dog even after he started growling. (Remember I’m five, I do not know what growling is). Then out of no where, the dog bit me! Well, the more accurate term would be he snapped at me, it didn’t even break the skin. But of course it scared me and I screamed. I screamed loud. As always, my Daddy appeared out of thin air, scooped me up and told me to count to ten. For some reason that always worked. Anytime any of us got a "boo boo" he would say "Count to ten!!!" So after I counted to ten the pain was better, but so my fear of animals (dogs in particular) was born. My fear was so great that I did not want to go outside to play, even after Dad put up a fence around our yard.
My fear of dogs became less intense as time went on. (And yes, I eventually went back outside to play). Dad did not want us to be afraid of dogs, or anything else for that matter. He had a dog named Buster when he was young and would tell us stories about how much fun he had with him and how one day he wanted to get us a dog of our own. That day came one spring morning when I was 20 years old. I was a college student at Marshall University but was at home recooperating from appendicitis. Since I didn’t go to class this particular day, Dad let me in on the surprise: He had decided to get us a dog. In addition, I get to help pick out the dog.
That day, Dad and I drove for what seemed like forever, but in reality was only a few hours, to a farm in Ohio. The owner was a breeder of Irish Setters. The first thing I noticed when we arrived was a dog on a chain leash that was tied to a tree. He barked and barked and barked. My old familiar fear of dogs suddenly kicked in. The owner must have sensed it because she immediately told me “Don’t worry, he does not bite, he just gets excited when company arrives and he likes to jump on you.” Little did I know that statement would be repeated hundreds of times at the McCallister household over the next ten years. I asked the owner, “Is that dog the father of the puppies?” She said, “As a matter of fact he is!” I guess its true what they say, “like father, like son,” even for dogs.
The owner showed us into the house and took us to the big box in the corner of the front room. There they were. Little puppies. Little bright red haired puppies. I instantly fell in love! I’m not really sure, but I think Dad took me with him to the farm that day because I was never completely sold on the idea of having a pet. The way I saw it, a pet was a living, breathing, pooping thing that peed on the carpet and made me sneeze. Not my idea of fun. I forgot all about that when I saw those red little balls of fur. How would we ever decide which one to pick!? There were four or five puppies in there and they were all boys except for one. I told Dad what I was thinking and he replied, “Your PaPa said to get the most aggressive one.” PaPa is my Dad’s Dad and has had several pets over the years. Sounded like a good plan. Besides, how else would we decide?
Dad leaned over the box and started whistling. What happened next is almost too funny for words, at least to me. It may be one of those “you had to be there” kind of things, but still makes me laugh every time I think of it. The moment Dad started whistling, one of the puppies began knocking down the other puppies and pushing past them to get to Dad. The decision was made. We had our dog. We sat down at the kitchen table while the owner got the paperwork. (Yes, dogs apparently come with paperwork.) Dad and I began discussing names. We thought that Mac would be a good name for him because that’s what everyone called my siblings and me at school, we were Amy Mac, Davey Mac, and Tara Mac. I can’t remember exactly if it was Dad or Davey that later suggested that we add an “S” at the end of that and call him Macs (pronounced like “max”), the idea being that he is named after all of us. While we were discussing names, I was startled by a dog that came into the kitchen. She was a beautiful full-grown Irish Setter. She was Macs’ mother. She came right over to where I was sitting and put her paw in my lap. It was so sweet. I patted her head. She then proceeded over to Dad and put her paw in his lap. After petting her we said goodbye and took Macs home with us.
I will never forget what Davey said when he came home from school that day and saw Macs for the first time. He looked at Dad and said “This is the best day of my life!” You see, not only was that the day he got the pet he always wanted, that was also when he began dating his future wife. (Though of course he did not know she was his future wife at the time
The first Saturday that we had Macs, Tara and I were woken up at 6:00am to the sound of Davey saying, “Sit….Sit…..Sit….. Sit! Sit! Siiiiiiiiiit!” I mean really, when else would you teach your new dog to sit other than 6am on a Saturday?
Macs’ puppy days were very happy yet challenging days. We took turns cleaning up the accidents on the floor, feeding him and taking him outside. Dad was in charge of trying to get him housebroken and he did really well. By the time Christmas rolled around Macs was housebroken and seldom had any accidents with the exception of when he got really excited. I will never forget that first Christmas with Macs. By that time he no longer looked like a puppy. He looked like a full-grown dog. We put a Christmas sweater on him that said “My 1st Christmas”, which he hated and wiggled out of. We got him some plastic toys that were destroyed in record time. That was the first and last time Macs got plastic toys for Christmas. Dad always went all out for us on Christmas and every year got us a ridiculous amount of presents, even after we became adults!! After we were done opening presents there was wrapping paper everywhere. Macs felt it was his job to destroy the wrapping paper. After he had done all the damage he could do he would climb up in Dad’s lap. You see, Macs was rather spoiled. From the time he was a puppy his favorite place to be was in Dad’s lap. This never changed. What did change was Macs’ size. He got so big, so fast! It was so funny to see this huge dog climb up into my Dad’s lap and sit there like he only weighed 5 pounds. A few years later, Tara brought her new boyfriend over to meet our family. The first thing Macs did when the new boyfriend sat down on our couch was he climbed up in his lap and peed on him. Tara’s face turned 10 different shades of red! Macs was just really excited and couldn’t have known at the time that he was peeing on Tara’s future husband.
My fear of dogs became less intense as time went on. (And yes, I eventually went back outside to play). Dad did not want us to be afraid of dogs, or anything else for that matter. He had a dog named Buster when he was young and would tell us stories about how much fun he had with him and how one day he wanted to get us a dog of our own. That day came one spring morning when I was 20 years old. I was a college student at Marshall University but was at home recooperating from appendicitis. Since I didn’t go to class this particular day, Dad let me in on the surprise: He had decided to get us a dog. In addition, I get to help pick out the dog.
That day, Dad and I drove for what seemed like forever, but in reality was only a few hours, to a farm in Ohio. The owner was a breeder of Irish Setters. The first thing I noticed when we arrived was a dog on a chain leash that was tied to a tree. He barked and barked and barked. My old familiar fear of dogs suddenly kicked in. The owner must have sensed it because she immediately told me “Don’t worry, he does not bite, he just gets excited when company arrives and he likes to jump on you.” Little did I know that statement would be repeated hundreds of times at the McCallister household over the next ten years. I asked the owner, “Is that dog the father of the puppies?” She said, “As a matter of fact he is!” I guess its true what they say, “like father, like son,” even for dogs.
The owner showed us into the house and took us to the big box in the corner of the front room. There they were. Little puppies. Little bright red haired puppies. I instantly fell in love! I’m not really sure, but I think Dad took me with him to the farm that day because I was never completely sold on the idea of having a pet. The way I saw it, a pet was a living, breathing, pooping thing that peed on the carpet and made me sneeze. Not my idea of fun. I forgot all about that when I saw those red little balls of fur. How would we ever decide which one to pick!? There were four or five puppies in there and they were all boys except for one. I told Dad what I was thinking and he replied, “Your PaPa said to get the most aggressive one.” PaPa is my Dad’s Dad and has had several pets over the years. Sounded like a good plan. Besides, how else would we decide?
Dad leaned over the box and started whistling. What happened next is almost too funny for words, at least to me. It may be one of those “you had to be there” kind of things, but still makes me laugh every time I think of it. The moment Dad started whistling, one of the puppies began knocking down the other puppies and pushing past them to get to Dad. The decision was made. We had our dog. We sat down at the kitchen table while the owner got the paperwork. (Yes, dogs apparently come with paperwork.) Dad and I began discussing names. We thought that Mac would be a good name for him because that’s what everyone called my siblings and me at school, we were Amy Mac, Davey Mac, and Tara Mac. I can’t remember exactly if it was Dad or Davey that later suggested that we add an “S” at the end of that and call him Macs (pronounced like “max”), the idea being that he is named after all of us. While we were discussing names, I was startled by a dog that came into the kitchen. She was a beautiful full-grown Irish Setter. She was Macs’ mother. She came right over to where I was sitting and put her paw in my lap. It was so sweet. I patted her head. She then proceeded over to Dad and put her paw in his lap. After petting her we said goodbye and took Macs home with us.
I will never forget what Davey said when he came home from school that day and saw Macs for the first time. He looked at Dad and said “This is the best day of my life!” You see, not only was that the day he got the pet he always wanted, that was also when he began dating his future wife. (Though of course he did not know she was his future wife at the time
The first Saturday that we had Macs, Tara and I were woken up at 6:00am to the sound of Davey saying, “Sit….Sit…..Sit….. Sit! Sit! Siiiiiiiiiit!” I mean really, when else would you teach your new dog to sit other than 6am on a Saturday?
Macs’ puppy days were very happy yet challenging days. We took turns cleaning up the accidents on the floor, feeding him and taking him outside. Dad was in charge of trying to get him housebroken and he did really well. By the time Christmas rolled around Macs was housebroken and seldom had any accidents with the exception of when he got really excited. I will never forget that first Christmas with Macs. By that time he no longer looked like a puppy. He looked like a full-grown dog. We put a Christmas sweater on him that said “My 1st Christmas”, which he hated and wiggled out of. We got him some plastic toys that were destroyed in record time. That was the first and last time Macs got plastic toys for Christmas. Dad always went all out for us on Christmas and every year got us a ridiculous amount of presents, even after we became adults!! After we were done opening presents there was wrapping paper everywhere. Macs felt it was his job to destroy the wrapping paper. After he had done all the damage he could do he would climb up in Dad’s lap. You see, Macs was rather spoiled. From the time he was a puppy his favorite place to be was in Dad’s lap. This never changed. What did change was Macs’ size. He got so big, so fast! It was so funny to see this huge dog climb up into my Dad’s lap and sit there like he only weighed 5 pounds. A few years later, Tara brought her new boyfriend over to meet our family. The first thing Macs did when the new boyfriend sat down on our couch was he climbed up in his lap and peed on him. Tara’s face turned 10 different shades of red! Macs was just really excited and couldn’t have known at the time that he was peeing on Tara’s future husband.
Macs on Christmas Day 2007
Max was always so full of energy. I think he had Red Bull running through his veins instead of blood. He was very attached to my Dad and many times didn’t want anything to do with anyone else EXCEPT Dad! Dad took a 2 week vacation one summer and I stayed home with Macs. I had church camp on one of those weeks so I did not get to go on the family vacation, but instead spent some quality time with Macs before it was time to leave for church camp. Macs did not like Dad being gone AT ALL. At first he refused to eat. Then he didn't want to play. He moped around like he had lost his best friend. I tried to take him outside to do his business and he just plopped down on the ground, so defeated. One evening I stayed outside with him for about 30 minutes or so trying to get him to poo. He never did poo, so I figured he had not eaten enough to make him go. I brought him back inside then he went straight up to the bathroom. He waited for me to get to the top of the stairs to make sure I could see him. He just stared and glared at me while he proceeded to have a big poo right in the middle of the floor. He did it for spite! As if to say, "I want my Daddy and I want him NOW. So because you won't get him for me, I am going to take a big poo in the floor to get your attention."
In the summer of 2005 Macs made a new friend. My Dad's new girlfriend Rose. I won't go into my Dad and Rose's story (because its not my story to tell), but I will tell my perspective. Rose is the best thing that has ever happened to my Dad. She came into our lives and won our hearts, Macs' heart was no exception. When Dad and Rose got married, Rose and her son Raleigh moved in, and Macs was so excited about our new blended family. He was Rose's constant companion. He followed her all over the house and always had to know what was going on and what she was doing!
I went through a very trying time in my life that started in January 2006. My grandpa Joe passed away the day after his 75th birthday. I was living in Virginia then, and it was hard being away from my family at such a difficult time. I also happened to be dating a not-nice-at-all boyfriend, but had such low self-esteem that I was convinced if we broke up that I would just be alone for the rest of my life. In 2007 I moved back to West Virginia, for good. I had to get to the point that I would rather be by myself than be with a guy and be miserable. So I was finally away from the not-nice-at-all boyfriend, which was very good, but I would still get down every now and then. It was at these down times that I would go over to Dad's and just visit with Rose and Macs. Visiting with Rose and Macs was better than any therapy I've ever went to. Macs would be all excited when I first got there, then he would settle down and just put his head down in my lap. It was great.
When Macs was around 9 years old, Dad and Rose noticed that he didn't have as much energy as he usually did. At first they just thought he was becoming an "old man." After all, he was no longer a spring chicken. Then it got worse, he was very weak and was not eating well. My Dad took him to the vet and got terrible news. Macs had big tumors all in his chest, he was not going to make it. Our doggie was suffering so bad. My Dad was with him at the vet when he slipped into doggie heaven.
We were all so sad when Macs left us. Macs was a member of our family and will never be forgotten. I can't begin to tell you how strange that first Christmas was without him here. I still think of him often and sometimes still expect him to be greeting me at the door when I go over to my Dad's house.
As I write this, I am 8 months pregnant with my little boy, Aidan Cameron. It is my hope that Aidan will have at least one special pet in his life. My husband, JR, has had many pets he has loved over the years. (His little dog Daisy lived to be 15 years old!) JR says that Aidan MUST have his own dog. I just wish that Aidan could have known Macs!
So to Macs, I want to say I love you buddy, and miss you. I hope there are lots of treats and raw hide chews for you up there in doggie heaven!!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
A not so good, kind of bad day
I have two words that come to mind right now. Murphy's law.
Wikipedia defines Murphy's law as an adage that is typically stated, "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."
I don't know who Murphy is. I do not know how this adage came to be. All I know is that on Thursday of this past week it was all too true for me. First I must back up a little bit though.
I am the kind of person who requires sleep. I'm sure you know at least one person who at one point or another you would say, "They woke up on the wrong side of the bed." If I get less than 6-7 hours of sleep, I feel like I am not worth 2 cents. That being said, I believe that God is trying to prepare me for motherhood. I have many friends who have newborn babies and would give their last cup of coffee for 3-4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Well, my UNborn baby thinks that 3:30am is a WONDERFUL time to kick and play. He kicks, rolls, twists and then kicks some more. This is an amazing feeling, I am already so in love with this little baby boy. I have always wondered what it would feel like feel a baby kicking.
Before I was pregnant, I used to be a very sound sleeper. Not so much anymore. These wonderful kicks (that I would not trade ANYTHING for) are keeping me up at night. Its probably a combination of factors. Most days I still cannot believe I am pregnant. Its all so surreal to me. So when I feel him kick, my mind cannot shut down. I am overwhelmed by love, joy, excitement, etc. Then just when my mind stops racing long enough for me to relax and maybe fall asleep, he kicks again.
My lack of sleep is the back drop for my not so good, kind of bad day on Thursday. For about 3 nights in a row, I averaged about 3-4 hours of sleep each night.
For just a minute, I have to rewind a little further. Back in August, I became an Independent Consultant for The Pampered Chef. I loved the idea of having my own business and of course I love the products. I am glad I made the decision to become a consultant because I ended up having to resign from my regular full-time job due to pregnancy-related medical issues. My favorite part about being a consultant is doing the cooking shows. I LOVE going into peoples' homes and cooking for them! Its a win/win for me and the host because I get commissions and the host gets free/discounted products. I apologize for this small plug. http://www.pamperedchef.biz/amyethel
As much fun as these cooking shows are, it requires some preparation. At one of my cooking shows in November, I met a very nice stay at home mom who was interested in having her own cooking show. She was very busy and wanted to wait until after the holidays, so I booked her for the 3rd Thursday in January. Yes, I had 2 full months to plan this cooking show. Did I procrastinate? Why yes, yes I did. (NOW can you see why its so hard for me to blog? I hate admitting these things about myself!!) I waited until the WEEK of the party before getting all the paperwork ready. I was at Office Max the NIGHT before getting a new ink stamp printed out. Worst of all, I did not plan or think ahead to practice the recipe until the DAY OF the party!! So yes, I will go ahead and tell you my bad day on Thursday was completely preventable. There, I said it. But here's how it went.
I woke up on Thursday morning feeling REALLY bad physically. It could have been the lack of sleep for the last several days or just overall pregnancy woes, but it was bad. I was nauseated. I began the day by taking anti-nausea medicine and chewing on Tums. I then had to choose the products I was taking to the party and start packing them up.
In the interest of saving time (and saving you from boredom) I will try my very best to shorten this very LONG bad day. Here's what happened, the short (er) version.
Packed up products, realized some were dirty, ran dishwasher. Realized apron was dirty, did a load of laundry. Went to the store to get recipe ingredients, Walmart did not have puff pastry dough. Went to Kroger, Kroger did not have puff pastry dough. Searched all over Tri-state area all afternoon for puff pastry dough. Finally found it but could not practice recipe due to wild goose chase. While pulling out of the grocery store, a toothless man knocked on my window and I screamed. Turns out I left a gallon of milk on the roof of my car while putting away groceries. Apologized to toothless man and thanked him for saving my milk. Made it back home, unloaded dishwasher, packed products, put clothes in the dryer. I was frazzled, nauseated, and perspiring. Took my second shower of the day, got very dizzy while in the shower, then realized I had skipped lunch. After my shower went in the kitchen to get crackers, stumped my big toe on the entertainment center. While eating crackers, glanced at the clock. I should have left 5 minutes ago were I to be on time. Tried to finish getting ready, leaned over to get my hairbrush and hit my head on the nightstand. Cried a little bit while drying my hair. Prayed to God while I put on my make up to PLEASE help me get through this day. Tried to load up the car, had to stop to dry heave. Grabbed my cell phone as I was leaving and saw it was almost dead. Finally left my house and all of a sudden, snow began to POUR. Cell phone died on the way. Unable to charge cell phone and use GPS at the same time. Tried to get to Host's house without the GPS, ended up getting lost. It was pitch dark and snowing. Unplugged cell phone, plugged GPS back in and finally made it there. 40 minutes after I told the host I would be there. Guests were already arriving while I was unpacking.
**Deep Breath** Okay so I survived the day and made it to the party. My host was very gracious, I'm sure it was obvious that I was not an expert or professional chef, but we made some very delicious Strawberry Amaretto Pastries. (If you would like this recipe let me know and I will email it to you!)
I was still frazzled and nauseated, but relieved to have just made it there. After the party was over, I was enjoying listening to the sounds of my host's children playing. She has 2 year old twin girls and their laughter was so wonderful to hear at the end of my long day. As I was leaving, one of the little girls said, "But I need a hug and a kiss!" Too precious.
When I pulled out of their driveway there was no less than 2-3 inches of snow on the ground and it was still pouring. It took me and hour and a half to get home.
The next day, I was talking to my grandmother on the phone, recounting the events of my horrible day. She was very empathetic as I told her, "Maw Maw it was such a bad day, I'm so glad its over. I want to hibernate for days, blah blah blah" She then replied, "Don't worry honey, the next party will be better. You'll do better next time. I'm sorry there were only a few people there and you didn't get very many sales" Then I paused. I told her, "Well actually there were quite a few people there, about 20 or so." She said "Oh! The way you were telling me how things went, it sounded like you said only 2 or 3 people came." That really made me think. I was going on and on about how terrible my day had been, that I forgot to look at the outcome. I ended up with over $700 in guest sales and my host got over $210 worth of free products!! She was so thrilled and told me she thought the party went great. Hopefully she did not know how bad my day was going, and won't know until she would happen to read this blog one day! She is even thinking about becoming a Pampered Chef consultant too, so I could not have done SO BAD as what I had imagined.
So even the worst of days can end up just being a "not so good day" or even better than most days, depending on how you look at it!
Wikipedia defines Murphy's law as an adage that is typically stated, "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."
I don't know who Murphy is. I do not know how this adage came to be. All I know is that on Thursday of this past week it was all too true for me. First I must back up a little bit though.
I am the kind of person who requires sleep. I'm sure you know at least one person who at one point or another you would say, "They woke up on the wrong side of the bed." If I get less than 6-7 hours of sleep, I feel like I am not worth 2 cents. That being said, I believe that God is trying to prepare me for motherhood. I have many friends who have newborn babies and would give their last cup of coffee for 3-4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Well, my UNborn baby thinks that 3:30am is a WONDERFUL time to kick and play. He kicks, rolls, twists and then kicks some more. This is an amazing feeling, I am already so in love with this little baby boy. I have always wondered what it would feel like feel a baby kicking.
Before I was pregnant, I used to be a very sound sleeper. Not so much anymore. These wonderful kicks (that I would not trade ANYTHING for) are keeping me up at night. Its probably a combination of factors. Most days I still cannot believe I am pregnant. Its all so surreal to me. So when I feel him kick, my mind cannot shut down. I am overwhelmed by love, joy, excitement, etc. Then just when my mind stops racing long enough for me to relax and maybe fall asleep, he kicks again.
My lack of sleep is the back drop for my not so good, kind of bad day on Thursday. For about 3 nights in a row, I averaged about 3-4 hours of sleep each night.
For just a minute, I have to rewind a little further. Back in August, I became an Independent Consultant for The Pampered Chef. I loved the idea of having my own business and of course I love the products. I am glad I made the decision to become a consultant because I ended up having to resign from my regular full-time job due to pregnancy-related medical issues. My favorite part about being a consultant is doing the cooking shows. I LOVE going into peoples' homes and cooking for them! Its a win/win for me and the host because I get commissions and the host gets free/discounted products. I apologize for this small plug. http://www.pamperedchef.biz/amyethel
As much fun as these cooking shows are, it requires some preparation. At one of my cooking shows in November, I met a very nice stay at home mom who was interested in having her own cooking show. She was very busy and wanted to wait until after the holidays, so I booked her for the 3rd Thursday in January. Yes, I had 2 full months to plan this cooking show. Did I procrastinate? Why yes, yes I did. (NOW can you see why its so hard for me to blog? I hate admitting these things about myself!!) I waited until the WEEK of the party before getting all the paperwork ready. I was at Office Max the NIGHT before getting a new ink stamp printed out. Worst of all, I did not plan or think ahead to practice the recipe until the DAY OF the party!! So yes, I will go ahead and tell you my bad day on Thursday was completely preventable. There, I said it. But here's how it went.
I woke up on Thursday morning feeling REALLY bad physically. It could have been the lack of sleep for the last several days or just overall pregnancy woes, but it was bad. I was nauseated. I began the day by taking anti-nausea medicine and chewing on Tums. I then had to choose the products I was taking to the party and start packing them up.
In the interest of saving time (and saving you from boredom) I will try my very best to shorten this very LONG bad day. Here's what happened, the short (er) version.
Packed up products, realized some were dirty, ran dishwasher. Realized apron was dirty, did a load of laundry. Went to the store to get recipe ingredients, Walmart did not have puff pastry dough. Went to Kroger, Kroger did not have puff pastry dough. Searched all over Tri-state area all afternoon for puff pastry dough. Finally found it but could not practice recipe due to wild goose chase. While pulling out of the grocery store, a toothless man knocked on my window and I screamed. Turns out I left a gallon of milk on the roof of my car while putting away groceries. Apologized to toothless man and thanked him for saving my milk. Made it back home, unloaded dishwasher, packed products, put clothes in the dryer. I was frazzled, nauseated, and perspiring. Took my second shower of the day, got very dizzy while in the shower, then realized I had skipped lunch. After my shower went in the kitchen to get crackers, stumped my big toe on the entertainment center. While eating crackers, glanced at the clock. I should have left 5 minutes ago were I to be on time. Tried to finish getting ready, leaned over to get my hairbrush and hit my head on the nightstand. Cried a little bit while drying my hair. Prayed to God while I put on my make up to PLEASE help me get through this day. Tried to load up the car, had to stop to dry heave. Grabbed my cell phone as I was leaving and saw it was almost dead. Finally left my house and all of a sudden, snow began to POUR. Cell phone died on the way. Unable to charge cell phone and use GPS at the same time. Tried to get to Host's house without the GPS, ended up getting lost. It was pitch dark and snowing. Unplugged cell phone, plugged GPS back in and finally made it there. 40 minutes after I told the host I would be there. Guests were already arriving while I was unpacking.
**Deep Breath** Okay so I survived the day and made it to the party. My host was very gracious, I'm sure it was obvious that I was not an expert or professional chef, but we made some very delicious Strawberry Amaretto Pastries. (If you would like this recipe let me know and I will email it to you!)
I was still frazzled and nauseated, but relieved to have just made it there. After the party was over, I was enjoying listening to the sounds of my host's children playing. She has 2 year old twin girls and their laughter was so wonderful to hear at the end of my long day. As I was leaving, one of the little girls said, "But I need a hug and a kiss!" Too precious.
When I pulled out of their driveway there was no less than 2-3 inches of snow on the ground and it was still pouring. It took me and hour and a half to get home.
The next day, I was talking to my grandmother on the phone, recounting the events of my horrible day. She was very empathetic as I told her, "Maw Maw it was such a bad day, I'm so glad its over. I want to hibernate for days, blah blah blah" She then replied, "Don't worry honey, the next party will be better. You'll do better next time. I'm sorry there were only a few people there and you didn't get very many sales" Then I paused. I told her, "Well actually there were quite a few people there, about 20 or so." She said "Oh! The way you were telling me how things went, it sounded like you said only 2 or 3 people came." That really made me think. I was going on and on about how terrible my day had been, that I forgot to look at the outcome. I ended up with over $700 in guest sales and my host got over $210 worth of free products!! She was so thrilled and told me she thought the party went great. Hopefully she did not know how bad my day was going, and won't know until she would happen to read this blog one day! She is even thinking about becoming a Pampered Chef consultant too, so I could not have done SO BAD as what I had imagined.
So even the worst of days can end up just being a "not so good day" or even better than most days, depending on how you look at it!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Let's try this again....
Okay I admit it, I am a failed blogger. I could give a long list of excuses, but I won't. Instead I'm going to make an honest to God effort to redeem myself and become a reformed blogger, whatever that is! Okay maybe I should give a short list of probable causes for my lack of blogging, not to make excuses, but to offer some sort of explanation and also catch up anyone who is interested in my life.
Probable cause #1: Beginning in June I worked an INSANE amount of overtime at my job. No exaggeration. I was in need of an intervention. In the month of July I only took 3 days off (and they were not weekend days). Most days I went to work at 10:00am and did not clock out until 1:00am. On the upside, this dedication to my job made me very GOOD at my job and my employer took notice...which leads to:
Probable cause #2: In August, I was promoted to a Supervisor position. This was a big deal for me. I worked very hard for it and was very excited. However, was I prepared for it? Probably not. It was a very stressful job. The call center environment is in itself very stressful, but when you're a supervisor you have to take phone calls from customers who, more often than not, are EXTREMELY upset. They have asked to talk to a supervisor because they did not like the answer the previous rep gave them. So I would then proceed to roll my eyes reiterate what the previous rep had told the customer, that this is in fact the correct information, company policy, etc I'm sorry for the inconvenience, we value you as a customer, blah blah blah. Apologize, apologize. Customer would proceed to curse me and hang up. Okay now I'm rambling and I DO NOT want to ramble. So you get the picture. Lots of stress, but August had yet another surprise for me...
Probable cause #3: On August 27th, I found out that I am PREGNANT. Yes, pregnant. A baby conceived the good old fashioned way. No fertility medications or procedures. A miracle! (My infertility struggle was extensive and will be covered in another blog to come... Stay tuned!) DH and I were shocked to say the least. Shocked and thrilled. So now we've made it to September.
Probable cause #4: Here come the pregnancy symptoms! I will try to keep this as non-graphic as I can. Let's just say from about 6 weeks pregnant moving forward, I threw up almost every day. I've been in and out of the hospital several times since then. The first hospital stay was in Mid-September for a 3 day visit. I want to spare you my complete medical history so I will just tell you I had a pre-existing stomach condition that has made this pregnancy alot harder for me that what it should have been. I am 23 weeks pregnant now and still struggling with these symptoms. I have had to go to the hospital about every 1-2 weeks to get IV fluids. For this reason I had to step down from my supervisor position at work and take medical leave. Which leads to my last point...
Probable cause #5: I have a hard time being transparent. I tend to be a little insecure and so when I start to talk about my personal life, I get anxious about what people will think of me. For example, regarding probable cause #4, my inner dialogue would go something like this: "Wow, I sound like such a wimp. Like the only sick pregnant person who ever lived. People will think I'm a slacker because I'm not working. 'Suck it up' they will say. 'We are not really THAT interested in your life. Why are you complaining? Haven't you wanted a baby your whole life? Haven't you whined and cried for the last 3 years about NOT being able to have a baby? What are you going to do now??' ETC ETC ETC. Sheesh, talk about low self-esteem. I promise I'm better than I used to be and I AM working on it.
The truth is, I don't have all the answers. However, I feel that I have a very blessed life and it will be a terrible shame to keep it to myself any longer. Its not my intention to turn this into a Mommy Blog, though I'm sure many times it WILL be one. I am interested in so many different things and have many stories to tell, few of which are baby related as of yet. So here I go on my journey to be a reformed blogger. Wish me luck!
Probable cause #1: Beginning in June I worked an INSANE amount of overtime at my job. No exaggeration. I was in need of an intervention. In the month of July I only took 3 days off (and they were not weekend days). Most days I went to work at 10:00am and did not clock out until 1:00am. On the upside, this dedication to my job made me very GOOD at my job and my employer took notice...which leads to:
Probable cause #2: In August, I was promoted to a Supervisor position. This was a big deal for me. I worked very hard for it and was very excited. However, was I prepared for it? Probably not. It was a very stressful job. The call center environment is in itself very stressful, but when you're a supervisor you have to take phone calls from customers who, more often than not, are EXTREMELY upset. They have asked to talk to a supervisor because they did not like the answer the previous rep gave them. So I would then proceed to
Probable cause #3: On August 27th, I found out that I am PREGNANT. Yes, pregnant. A baby conceived the good old fashioned way. No fertility medications or procedures. A miracle! (My infertility struggle was extensive and will be covered in another blog to come... Stay tuned!) DH and I were shocked to say the least. Shocked and thrilled. So now we've made it to September.
Probable cause #4: Here come the pregnancy symptoms! I will try to keep this as non-graphic as I can. Let's just say from about 6 weeks pregnant moving forward, I threw up almost every day. I've been in and out of the hospital several times since then. The first hospital stay was in Mid-September for a 3 day visit. I want to spare you my complete medical history so I will just tell you I had a pre-existing stomach condition that has made this pregnancy alot harder for me that what it should have been. I am 23 weeks pregnant now and still struggling with these symptoms. I have had to go to the hospital about every 1-2 weeks to get IV fluids. For this reason I had to step down from my supervisor position at work and take medical leave. Which leads to my last point...
Probable cause #5: I have a hard time being transparent. I tend to be a little insecure and so when I start to talk about my personal life, I get anxious about what people will think of me. For example, regarding probable cause #4, my inner dialogue would go something like this: "Wow, I sound like such a wimp. Like the only sick pregnant person who ever lived. People will think I'm a slacker because I'm not working. 'Suck it up' they will say. 'We are not really THAT interested in your life. Why are you complaining? Haven't you wanted a baby your whole life? Haven't you whined and cried for the last 3 years about NOT being able to have a baby? What are you going to do now??' ETC ETC ETC. Sheesh, talk about low self-esteem. I promise I'm better than I used to be and I AM working on it.
The truth is, I don't have all the answers. However, I feel that I have a very blessed life and it will be a terrible shame to keep it to myself any longer. Its not my intention to turn this into a Mommy Blog, though I'm sure many times it WILL be one. I am interested in so many different things and have many stories to tell, few of which are baby related as of yet. So here I go on my journey to be a reformed blogger. Wish me luck!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
My Best Friend
I have had the same best friend for the past 10 years. In this blog I will call her "Mrs. Busybee" or just BB. (BB can also stand for Best Buddy!) I call her Mrs. Busybee because she is the BUSIEST person I have ever known. She juggles family, work, church, friends, groceries and extra curricular activities and still has the grace and time to chat with me through it all.
Our friendship began when we met in college. She stayed in the dorms while I was renting a house off campus. I sometimes felt like I was missing out on all the fun because I was not living in the dorms. BB would invite me to the dorms and we would have sleepovers. On the weekends we were either at my Dad's house or at her parents' house. We worked together at the same day care while attending college.
BB got married and had her first baby while we were still in college. I was the FIRST non-relative to hold that baby. It went: 1. BB & her husband, 2. BB's parents, 3. Husband's parents, 4. ME!!!! BB has always made me feel like a part of her family.
BB is always there for me. When I had to have surgery get my appendix removed, she brought me flowers and visited me every day in the hospital.
When I turned 21, I went through a very rebellious time in my life. I began to party alot more and go to class alot less. Even though BB disagreed with my choices she never judged me. She just kept on loving me just the way I was.
BB has laughed with me, cried with me, held my hair back when I was drunk, and has listened to me complain endlessly about how unfair life is. She prayed AND fasted for me when I was struggling with my faith in God. She was there with me when I stood up in church a couple of months ago and gave my testimony about how God has changed my life. Between the two of us we've been through it all! Here are some of the things we've been through and helped each other with:
So to my BB, I want to say THANK YOU. Thank you doesn't seem like enough to say, its just too simple. For all you have been and continue to be for me THANK YOU. For believing in God for me when I had no faith left, THANK YOU. For being my sister, prayer warrior, accountability partner, ( I could go on and on). I love you more than words could ever say!
Our friendship began when we met in college. She stayed in the dorms while I was renting a house off campus. I sometimes felt like I was missing out on all the fun because I was not living in the dorms. BB would invite me to the dorms and we would have sleepovers. On the weekends we were either at my Dad's house or at her parents' house. We worked together at the same day care while attending college.
BB got married and had her first baby while we were still in college. I was the FIRST non-relative to hold that baby. It went: 1. BB & her husband, 2. BB's parents, 3. Husband's parents, 4. ME!!!! BB has always made me feel like a part of her family.
BB is always there for me. When I had to have surgery get my appendix removed, she brought me flowers and visited me every day in the hospital.
When I turned 21, I went through a very rebellious time in my life. I began to party alot more and go to class alot less. Even though BB disagreed with my choices she never judged me. She just kept on loving me just the way I was.
BB has laughed with me, cried with me, held my hair back when I was drunk, and has listened to me complain endlessly about how unfair life is. She prayed AND fasted for me when I was struggling with my faith in God. She was there with me when I stood up in church a couple of months ago and gave my testimony about how God has changed my life. Between the two of us we've been through it all! Here are some of the things we've been through and helped each other with:
- rebellious years
- fights with parents
- fights with siblings
- getting married
- getting divorced
- getting remarried
- in-laws
- ex-husbands
- ex-boyfriends
- struggles with infertility
- losing jobs
- starting new jobs
- losing loved ones
- death of a father in law
- death of 2 grandparents
- babysitters
- daycare
- child support
- homework
- going to church
- heartache and let downs
- joys and victories
So to my BB, I want to say THANK YOU. Thank you doesn't seem like enough to say, its just too simple. For all you have been and continue to be for me THANK YOU. For believing in God for me when I had no faith left, THANK YOU. For being my sister, prayer warrior, accountability partner, ( I could go on and on). I love you more than words could ever say!
I will close by sharing a card that BB sent to me back in 2003. She may not even remember sending it to me, but I'm very sentimental and always hold on to things like this:
"We're not just friends, we're tell-it-like-it-is friends. And boy, do I ever need that! We can be politically incorrect, complain about men, and talk about our private thoughts and feelings. We both understand that the sands of time are shifting, hair can actually 'go bad,' and one's memory can come and...whatever. We don't let each other wear something that's all wrong or keep silent if one of us is making a bad decision. Its good that we can cry in front of each other without embarrassment, knowing that we'll be understood, and right or wrong, we know we'll always be there for each other. Time and time again you've touched my heart with your sweetness, your caring, and your thoughtfulness. I'm so grateful to have a friend like you. You're a rare and wonderful person and I'll treasure you forever." Kay Andrew
At the bottom of the card BB added in her own handwriting:
"I miss seeing you and I found this and it said just what I needed it to. Thank you just doesn't seem like enough."
Love,
BB
September, 2003
All I have to say is, right back at you BB!!!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
New Beginnings
This is my first blog in a long while. DH (Dear Husband) and I have been through alot this last month. We went for a routine prenatal checkup on May 3rd and the ultrasound did not detect a heartbeat. Our baby did not make it.
I was shocked and heartbroken. We had just seen the heartbeat three weeks before. I had to have a D & C on May 4th.
DH and I have been very sad. However, we are trusting in God. He gave us the desire to become parents and He is still faithful!
Many people have asked me how I made it through this past month. First and foremost it is because of God. I have found that my days are so much better when I pray and read my bible.
So here are a few things that I am doing that have really helped me during this difficult time.
After I recooperated from my surgery, I joined the YMCA. I've continued eating healthy and not drinking soda. In the last 3 weeks I have lost 11 pounds! I have really enjoyed my workouts. I feel so much better both physically AND mentally.
I also purchased a tanning package and have been tanning every few days or so.
DH says I'm not allowed to complain about things that are self-inflicted. So I will not be talking about how BADLY I was burned by the tanning bed the first few times I went.
I am going to church every Sunday and spending much time with family and friends. DH and I are so thankful for the love and support that we've received from all our loved ones. We are so very blessed!
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