Night and day

I am realizing how different my childhood was from my kids'.  Megan is almost 11.  By the time I was her age, I had already been to 10 different elementary schools and moved at least a dozen times.  She has moved 6 times in her life (only once that she sort of remembers), and has been at the same elementary school for grades K-5.  Alisha doesn't ever remember moving, went to one preschool and one elementary school.  We have been in the same ward for the past 7 years, so it's the only one Alisha has gone to.  I grew up with 3 brothers and 3 sisters, and it was quite noisy and chaotic all the time. We just have our 2 girls, and although they like to wrestle and tackle each other and scream, for the most part, things stay relatively quiet around here.

Maybe all the chaos made me more adaptable to changes.  We just got used to it, because that is just what happened all the time.  We even got bored if something wasn't new or changing.  When we stayed in a house for more than 6 months, we'd get trunky and switch rooms with each other or rearrange our furniture.  I was always the new kid, always struggling to make new friends, and always moving on.  So it just baffles me when my girls struggle so much with anything new.  When the school was being built on to make new classrooms for their school, Megan worried about going to the "new" school the next year, even though it was still the same school and 10 steps from the "old" part.  Anytime a new class or activity is starting, both girls are really nervous about not knowing what to expect.  Megan is getting better as she gets older, but they don't realize how lucky they are for the stability they have had. 

Another difference is I never flew on an airplane until I was 15.  I've lost count of how many times the girls have been on planes as we have flown back and forth to Utah for various weddings and trips to see our families.  I had never been East of Utah (aside from being born in Italy and living there for a year after that) before I got married at 19.  The next year, we moved to DC, was there for 3 years, and where Megan was born, and then in New York City for 4 years where Alisha was born.  They both want to take a trip to the East Coast and see where they were born.  I really want to start traveling a lot with them, especially now that they are older and are more interested in other places.

Another difference is their activities.  I never took swim lessons as a kid, so I never learned how to swim.   I took a couple of classes as an adult, and I can proudly say that I can now tread water and do the backstroke.  But even Alisha is going to pass me up, probably this summer.  She graciously offered to show me side breathing so I don't try to breathe in so much pool, but it's a little embarrassing to be shown up by my 7-year old.  They are both in a swim club for the summer, and Megan also does a year-round swim club.  There are swim meets every Saturday for the summer, and once or twice a month for the year-round club.  Over the years they have done ballet, soccer, Girl Scouts, band, and now swimming.  They've also expressed an interest in Tae Kwon Do, but I can't take on any more activities until I am done with nursing school.

Probably the biggest difference is I grew up around a lot of cousins and other extended family too, and we always had family functions together of some sort.  We don't have any family around now, so my kids don't really know their cousins very well.  It's getting better as they get older, and they can remember visiting our families and the fun they have had together.  I am sad that they don't know our families like Chris and I do.  I'm sad they don't get to grow up around their extended family.  I'm sad our families don't love and adore our kids more because they don't know them.  But I'm grateful for adopted families who are there for me and my girls and bring back memories of the chaos when the kids are running around crazy together and making up games in the backyard.  My girls have it pretty good, I have to say.

I need Alice

I really need Alice.  Not a Cullen or of the Wonderland variety, but of the Brady Bunch.

Yes, that cheerful woman who is always around, always helpful to cook and clean, and always give support and understanding to the lucky Brady household.  I need her.  Bad.  Since I am either at school, at the hospital, studying, running children around to various after school activities, sneaking in a quick nap, ironing my uniform, doing laundry to have clothes to wear to said previous activities, letting the dog out, finding papers buried on my desk that should have received some attention, letting the dog in, cleaning so I can find my kitchen because my picky children apparently need to eat on a daily basis, and constantly and profusely apologizing to people around me for my lameness and delay in doing things I should have much earlier, I AM TIRED!  I need help!  Yes, psychiatric intervention would probably help, too, but I meant someone who could do all the stuff I apparently can't get around to right now, like grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, and laundry, and paying attention to my children.  I run around putting out fires and do stuff that HAS to be done RIGHT NOW, or more accurately, should have been done two weeks ago.  Chris works more than I do, and sleeps much less, and still he helps out when he can.  But it's not enough.  The girls are still young enough to believe in magical beings who come in while we are sleeping and leave them gifts.  So of course they believe that leaving dirty clothes on their bedroom floor will magically turn them into clean clothes which are neatly put away while they are sleeping.  DON'T I WISH.  They don't realize that now that they are in bed and asleep, then I can REALLY get to work on studying and cleaning in between chapters. 

I wish I could be supermom and do it all and have time to spare to spend with my amazing wonderful husband and my wonderful girls.  That would be awesome.  Instead I am running to and fro, sometimes without my head, and certainly without my brain, feeling more like a zombie.

 

Alice help me!

Happy New Year!

So upon musing over what I should be focusing on this year, I came to a realization of a few things. First of all, I am graduating from nursing school THIS YEAR! I will be done in December! Wahoo! I can't believe how fast the last year went. On my first day, I remember thinking quite clearly how 2 years was going to go by very slowly, especially after I met my first instructor. We were quickly initiated into our white shoe bootcamp by a very drill sergeant-like instructor. It was her job to scare us into submission, and it worked. Now I catch her smirking every so often, and I know she loves to scare the newbies. I think she secretly liked us. Anyway, fast forward to a year later, and I still feel a little scared. They expected us to screw up before, but now they're expecting us to remember stuff. I don't know which is scarier, being completely untrustworthy or being left alone in my not-quite-yet-capable hands.

So my main plan for this year is to not just survive, but to shine! I will have more confidence in myself. I will balance my school with my family's and my personal needs. I will not pout. I will plan ahead. I will waste less time. I will choose an attitude of contentment. I will not feel guilty over what I am not doing. I will do what I can when I can and that will have to be good enough. I will not put other people's feelings over my family's feelings. I will worry less about what others think of me. I will leave others around me feeling happier. I will laugh and smile more. I will find more joy in what I am doing. I will have more fun with my children and husband. I will be more affectionate and tell them how great they are. I'm going to BE happy, because that is my choice regardless of what is happening around me.

I hope I can still remember this when everything gets crazy around me, as I know it will. It's just what happens with kids, husband, dog, activities, studying, school, homework, yada yada. It's gonna happen. So I just have to remember to keep my head about me and not let it overtake me.

The Sound of Silence

Hello sleeping, my old friend, I'm here to be with you again.

I just finished my 3rd quarter of nursing school. I was doing my maternity and pediatrics rotations. They were actually pretty great, despite the huge amount of reading and homework to do. I really liked being with the babies and kids. I think I want to go into pediatrics when I'm done. Although, it was really hard being the "bad guy" that the kids were afraid of. The first little girl I had screamed anytime anyone came near her. Poor thing. It was definitely a creative challenge to get her to cooperate. I credit my vast knowledge of Dora with my semi-success. Maybe all those hours of Alisha watching it was good for something. I got through it, and now I am officially halfway done with nursing school! I can't believe how fast this past year has gone. I will be graduating at this time next year! Yeah baby!

It's been crazy this past week trying to do everything I've neglected over the past 3 months. I was in charge of Megan's Girl Scouts meeting. We went to a local place that houses families of patients and we made and decorated cookies for them. I helped out with Alisha's classroom Holiday Party (no, not Christmas party--that's not PC). I did a lot of Christmas shopping, getting the girls off to school in the morning (they sure move a lot slower than I remember), and trying desperately to find my house underneath all the mess. I went out with friends, and watched all my shows on my DVR. I still haven't seen Chris much, since he's had a crazy week, too. He pulled an all-nighter on Wednesday, came home to shower, and went to an appointment with his sleep doctor. I thought that was ironic. Then he went back to work until 10 pm, came home and slept for 45 minutes, then went to a midnight showing of Tron with his friends. This boy is crazy!! I honestly don't know how he manages to work as much as he does. Many times when I would get up early for school, and miserable on my 4-5 hours of sleep, he would still be up working, and I would feel guilty for complaining. He still manages to help me out as much as he can with the girls and cooking, isn't grumpy, doesn't complain, and supports and encourages me when I get stressed out and overwhelmed. He's amazing.

So now, this week is pretty open. The girls are out of school, I'm not studying all week, even though I have my books already for next quarter, most of the Christmas shopping is done, and my house is mostly clean. I am going to sleep, sleep, shop, clean, cook, and sleep some more. I think I'll get a head start and go take a nap.

Marathon Miracle

So, back in July, I convinced Chris that he really "wanted" to run a 1/2 marathon with me. Specifically the Rock 'N Roll 1/2 marathon here in San Jose in October. So we started training, and it was actually going pretty well. It was nice to be able to run and spend more time together. He bought his funny looking toe shoes (picture is of our friend Kevin who also bought some) and avoided the dreaded shin splints. We got up to 8 miles, and he was doing really well. Then the following week things sorta started going downhill. Not really, because it wasn't going anywhere. He started having problems with his knee, and couldn't make it more than a few miles without some serious pain. He went back to his regular running shoes to try to cushion his knees a little more. On the next run, he got through about 7 miles, and had to walk the last 2 back to the car. No big, we'd just rest it a little more and try again the next week. That one was worse. He was in pain from the beginning, and finally had to turn around at mile 3 and started limping back to the car. Me being the wonderful and caring wife that I am, I told him to go back a little ways back to a place I knew how to drive to, and I would run back to the car and drive to pick him up. So I furiously booked it back to the car, running way faster than I was used to so that he wouldn't have to wait too long. I was feeling pretty good about my time, and I got to the car. As soon as I spotted it, I realized: CHRIS HAS THE KEY. D'OH!!! I didn't have my cell phone, either, because I didn't bring it because he had his. I found some nice ladies and borrowed their cell phone and tried to call him. I got his voice mail and told him to stay put and I would be there as soon as I could. I called my sister, Jenn, who was at home with the girls, and probably sleeping. I asked her to bring my set of keys to me, since it was only about a 10 minute drive away. I figured that would be faster than running all the way back to Chris, then all the way back to the car, then driving back to get him, especially since I was completely exhausted and out of breath. She got a little lost, and I finally got my keys about 40 minutes later. Poor Chris probably could have walked back to the car by the time I got to him, but oh well. He rested it for a couple of weeks, alternating between icing it and putting on a heating pad. It then occurred to him that he has had knee problems in the past, back when he ran in high school and then again on his mission while he was biking a lot.

So, race day comes, and I really didn't think he was ready to run it yet. But he was determined to try. We had hit traffic and tried to find a parking place, and we got to the start of the race about a minute before it actually started. We got running, and he was a little stiff, but figured he'd loosen up as he ran. He had to stop and walk a few times, and adjusted his knee braces a few other times. By the time we looped back to mile 4, he was in pretty bad shape. I told him we were actually pretty close to the car at that point, and that we could stop. He thought about it and was definitely tempted, but he decided he wanted to finish, no matter how slow he was or how much he had to walk it. So we went on, and he did okay for about 5 more miles. Then he was back to walking a bit, and trying his best to relax and loosen up. I even made him tell me 20 things he loved about me to try to distract him. He got to about #4 and couldn't think of any more. He was just in too much pain, or maybe he was just dumbfounded. :) So at about mile 10 we walked the rest, and even that was getting hard for him at the end. But he was able to run the last .1 miles across the finish line, and we even came in at 2 hours 59 minutes and 47 seconds. He was happy to finish under 3 hours, especially considering how many factors were against him going in. They had towels soaked in ice water at the finish line, and he was able to get to the medical tent and get his knees wrapped in some ice packs. I thought it was pretty inventive of them to use plastic wrap on the packing rolls to wrap it up tight. We got our medals and our pictures taken, and then we found the girls waiting to give us cheers and hugs.

But he did it, and I'm pretty proud of him for hanging in there. He's even almost walking normally now 2 days later. So there's hope for him. I think he'll have to go see his doctor and see if there's any physical problems with his knee or the cartilage and if it's something they can fix.