Blogging is so, like 2010, am I right?

I know blogging is like, totally not cool anymore, which means it's the perfect time for me to start blogging again. Such is my life...always on the brink of coolness.

My grandma passed away almost two weeks ago. After she passed, my mom emailed us a bunch of my grandma's journal entries. Though most of them were really short, I loved going through and reading them to get even a small glimpse into her life. It gave me the renewed desire to journal more.

So.... to lure you all back into the avid readers/stalkers you once were of this awesome blog, I've got a great story to share with you. Speaking of brink of coolness...

Our church had a Halloween trunk or treat a few months ago, you know, around Halloween. I happened to be talking to a group of people (Keep in mind, I was excited about this since we had just barely moved here and really don't know very many people. I was thinking, "look at Dave and I, making friends, like we're cool and all that".).

While talking to them, I was sipping some cider, but then decided I no longer wanted it when I realized it had as much sugar in it as a donut, so why the heck would I drink cider when I might as well be eating a donut?! I turned to throw my cider on the grass right as I heard one of the guys with whom we were talking saying how much less sugar the huge marshmallow he was eating had in comparison to other things (yes, we are all healthy like that....now, is it healthier to eat a marshmallow, a donut, or drink cider?), so of course I had to quickly stop my cider throwing and turn to jump in on that conversation.

I quickly turned, said my piece about sugar, and then turned back again to proceed to throw out my cider onto the grass. Only problem was, in the 30 seconds I turned, joined the conversation, and then turned back, someone had started walking right by me. Do you see where this is going? And it was like watching a slow motion train wreck, but I was the train, and I couldn't stop the wreck. My arm was already in motion.

Next thing I know, I see myself throwing my apple cider ALL down the front of some lady's pants. Someone I've never seen before. And it wasn't a little cider. It was a cup full. As in, she was drenched and it was dripping off of her. To make matters worse, I just started laughing uncontrollably. And the lady sat there staring at me. In between bouts of laughter, I kept apologizing profusely. She kept staring at me. Then I pulled myself together enough to tell her I'd run in the bathroom and grab some paper towel. (Yes, she was that wet.) I came out of the church with the paper towel and awkwardly asked her if she'd like me to wipe her down. She didn't.

Seriously, it was awful. And so hilarious. I don't think I stopped laughing for about an hour. Needless to say, I haven't spoken with any of the parties involved (witnesses or victim) since. For some reason, I haven't seen them around since then. So, if you are all wondering how much I've changed over these past few years, rest easy, I'm still here. In all my glory.

Now, let's talk about you...what have you been up to these past few years?

The Four Agreements

I started reading a book recently titled, "The Four Agreements". I have a friend who teaches classes at a local college about changing thinking patterns and she recommended this book to me. So far, I really like it.

One of the first things mentioned in the book is how so many of us live our lives out of fear. Here are a few points I really liked about fear that it mentions, "Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive---the risk to be alive and express what we really are. Just being ourselves is the biggest fear of humans. We have learned to live our lives trying to satisfy other people's demands. We have learned to live by other people's points of view because of the fear of not being accepted and of not being good enough for someone else."

It goes on to say that because we live our lives out of fear and try to create this illusion of perfection so that others will not reject us, we begin to loathe ourselves because we can never really be perfect. And because we loathe ourselves, we begin to abuse ourselves through guilt and shame. About abuse it states, "The limit of your self-abuse is exactly the limit that you will tolerate from someone else. If someone abuses you a little more than you abuse yourself, you will probably walk away from that person. But if someone abuses you a little less than you abuse yourself, you will probably stay in the relationship and tolerate it endlessly."

I think this is a such an empowering concept. I know there have been times in my life that I have allowed myself to be abused by others with their words and when I reflect back on those times and where I was at mentally, I can see direct correlations between others' actions and what I thought about myself.

The one situation where I don't agree with this concept that is in the case of a child being abused by an adult. I don't believe they "allow" themselves to be abused because they are abusing themselves just as much or more in their own minds. Because, as a child, you don't have the choice (in most cases) to stay or leave the abusive situation. What do you think about this? Have you found this to be true in your life? Or do you think it's a bunch of crock?

Since no one reads this blog anymore anyways...

I'm sure by now no one is reading this blog, so I've decided that makes it the perfect time to start writing my thoughts. So, this blog (for the time being) will be my unedited version of what I REALLY think (I just edited that sentence like five times). I know you've been waiting on pins and needles for the inner workings of my soul, so here you have it, in all it's glory....

A few months ago I was struggling with feeling like someone in my life didn't care to have a relationship with me. It hurt. It hurt because I respect this person a lot and think they are amazing. And it hurt to feel like this person didn't see the same value in me. I was reflecting on this situation when all of a sudden the words came into my mind, "they're doing the best they can". And instead of thinking about how hurt I felt about what they did or didn't do, I thought about all that they had on their plate at the time, and how busy their life was. And I realized, I was making this about me, but maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe it just had to do with where they were at and what they could give in that moment of time.

I'm listening to "The Book Thief" right now. In it, the narrator says, "And they did what humans do best, they made it about themselves." (Or something to that effect.) I wonder, how many times do I do that? How many times do I have encounters with those around me and they do something that I in turn make about myself, when really it has nothing to do with me. Maybe it has to do with them having a bad day at work, struggling with mental illness, dealing with infertility, or any other number of things. How much kinder, softer, more empathetic would my interactions with others be if I could see others as simply trying to do the best they can rather than choosing to make it into something about me? Because honestly, I think most of us are just trying to do the best we can....

So, here's to you-just keep doing your best. Because your best (and my best), are good enough. No matter what that best looks like. And I'm resolving to try a little harder to not make so many things about me.

New Blog...

So, I've decided to start a new blog in order to document our lives while in the Army... check it out! I promise it'll be REALLY awesome (read: probably bore you to tears, but just humor me!)

www.lifeasthewifeofanarmydoctor.blogspot.com


Eventually I hope to come back to this blog and starting writing again once our lives have been handed back to us-you know, once Dave is no longer in the Army.

Yep, It's Really True....

We really are having another baby! We are due on October 9th. And I'm sure most of you have the same question the doctor did-----yes, this was planned! We're very excited!

"Oops, We Did It Again...."

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Wow...can't believe it's been 3 months since I've posted on here! I've had so many things to post about, but life has been a bit crazy, and my mind is failing me at the moment...so, I'm posting a very random story today (because lets be honest, when am I not random?)...

Before I tell this story, let it be known that I do NOT condone the behavior that I am about share with you in any way. Especially if you are my children. Or the young women in my ward. Don't say I didn't warn you.

It was my senior year of high school and a friend and I had been hanging out one evening. It was nearing midnight, so we decided to head back to his house. We happen to have a few eggs in our car. Of the unboiled sort. (You know where this is going, right?) So, we decided to use them. On a passing vehicle. (Read: Bad idea. Don't try this at home. Or in your car.) So, as the next oncoming car approached, we threw an egg, hitting the car right in the middle of the windshield.

We looked in our rear-view mirror and saw the car flip around and start coming after us.

So, we decided to one-up it. We too flipped around and just as we were passing the car, we again threw an egg. And again hit the car right on the windshield.

Again we saw the car flip around and start pursuing us. And again we flipped our car around. Except we had no eggs left. We did, however, happen to have a carton of milk. So, we threw that at the car. And nailed it.

After that we decided we'd better book it to my friend's house so we wouldn't be late for curfew (Because we apparently were trying to make some good choices??). We pulled into the driveway right on time.

And then another car pulled in right behind us.

With eggs and milk all over it.

And his dad stepped out of the car.

So, after a long day of helping to take care of 6 children (currently at my sister's since she just had a new baby...) I received a phone call from Izak's school. I thought about not answering, but figured, if his school is calling at 8pm, it must be important. And boy was it ever! I am soooo glad I didn't miss this vital-to-my-life information. Here was the message I received:

"Hello. This is your Principal. That's principal with a p-a-l, not p-l-e. We recently sent out a newsletter before we had the chance to edit it. We apologize for spelling "Principal" with a p-l-e instead of a p-a-l. A good reminder to check our spelling before we send out any information. And please remind your children to check their spelling as well. Thank you. Have a good day."

Phew! I was VERY concerned when I received that newsletter and have been stewing for days as to what I should do about this catastrophe.

I will sleep well for the first time in days. Thank you Ms. Principle Principal!

I swear I use to be Cool...

So, before I share my most recent experience at my awesomeness in social situations, here are some explanatory details....

I work with the children at our church, which is called primary.
When we're assigned to a certain program within the church, it's called a "calling".
We have a "bishop" which is like a pastor, who extends these "callings".

Okay...here is my conversation this past Sunday at church...

Primary President: So, I was talking to the bishop and he said he was thinking of calling Sue to work with us in the primary. I can't remember her last name though.
Me: Was it Sue Sylvester?
Primary President: No, that wasn't it.
Me: Are you sure??! That name sounds really familiar.
Primary President: Umm, Kate, that's because she's from Glee.

See what you all are missing by not hanging out with me more? Even the dumbest of you (Lets not get into who that would be.) would feel smart when you're with me. It's one of my many, many talents.

C-Sections

Okay, all I have to say is I don't know why anyone would CHOOSE to have a c-section (other than for medical reasons, of course). I mean, considering how nauseous you get, to the point of having to lay down completely flat on your back during the operation... And then, after all is said and done, the fact that you have to be taken out of the operation room in a wheelchair.... it sounds awful to me. And if it's that hard on the (student) doctor, I can only imagine how hard it is for the patient.

What? What's that you say? How is Dave's OB/GYN rotation going? I promised him I would not divulge any embarrassing details on this blog, so you'll have to ask him personally. No, really, please ask him.

Thinking of You

Call me crazy but I've got this rule. The rule is that if I've lived in a place for over two years, any mail that comes (for the previous owners) in my mailbox, now belongs to me. I don't care whose name is on it. So, you'd better believe that today when I checked my mailbox and there was a hand written card (for the previous owners), I was so excited! A card, no matter whose name is on the envelope, is exciting. Right? Right? So, I opened it. And like most hand written cards, it did not disappoint. Here it is....

And this is what was written on the inside (took a picture, but it didn't turn out)....

"Missed seeing you at church. Hope you both are doing better. Jenny & Debbie"

I did mention that we've lived here over two years, right? I can just imagine their conversation now....

Debbie: Hey Jenny, you know who I haven't seen in 2 years a few weeks?

Jenny: Who Debbie?

Debbie: Gertrude and George.

Jenny: You're absolutely right Debbie! They haven't been here in 2 years a couple of weeks have they? I wonder if they're okay.

Debbie: I remember that 2 years a few weeks ago they were feeling a little under the weather, I hope they're doing better.

Jenny: Hey, I have an idea! Lets send them a card to let them know we're thinking of them and hope they're doing better.

Debbie: Ingenious Jenny!

So, a few weeks ago our washing machine broke. Broke in that our laundry room was flooded with water. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. Dave and I, being the handy-people we are, called to have someone come look at it and get a quote.

The guy showed up. Looked for a few minutes and informed us that the sealant was cracked and needed to be replaced. 15 minutes of work=$160.

We decided to get a second opinion.

The next guy showed up. Looked at it for a few seconds and informed us that a mosquito must have peed on the floor. Kill the mosquito=$0. We went with the second opinion. (Whose name happens to be Izak.)

Izak right before he pounced on the guilty mosquito

(Protecting himself (if you know what I mean) and others from temper tantrum-throwing moms)

I could see what was coming. A big, huge, fat, ugly melt down. I decided the best thing to be done would be to get the guilty party to go lay down and take a nap quickly before the volcano erupted that was beginning to boil inside.

So, that is exactly what I did.

I marched my grumpy, fit-throwing self straight to my bedroom.

Laid down on my bed.

And closed my eyes.

At 10:30 in the morning.

A few minutes later I heard little feet shuffling into my room. "I tired too Mommy." And Landon slipped himself into the sleeping bag that has permanently taken up residence next to my bed.

An hour and a half later Izak comes into the room. "Mommy, can I be all done with quiet time?" I look at the clock. 12:15pm. I tell Izak to go get ready for preschool. "Preschool?! At night?! I don't have preschool at night!"

(Because "normally" nap time is closely followed by dinner time which is closely followed by bed time. Except for times such as these. You know, when I'm about to freakishly freak out on my children for just being children.)

Me=Awesomeness

I was in such a hurry to get the kids in the car after soccer practice so Dave and I could get to our separate church meetings. It's always such an ordeal....have to pack up the dinner we ate while watching Izak's practice, pack up the toys to entertain the other three children (2 that we babysit) during practice, and pack all the children into the car.

By the time I actually pull out of the parking spot I feel like I deserve an award for making it out of there with all my children in one piece without yelling at everyone (I didn't say I don't yell, I said I don't yell at everyone-did you catch that?).

So, you can imagine how helpful it was when, while I'm loading all our crap stuff, and a lady in a car waiting starts getting all impatient asking if I'm going to leave soon.

I politely inform her that I am leaving soon, but that it's going to take a little while.

She then proceeds to raise her voice explaining that she's holding up traffic waiting for me to leave.

And then I explain that I have four children that I am trying to get into the car and that she is welcome to either wait until I'm done loading everyone/everything, or she is welcome to move on and look for another spot.

At that point all I hear is "RUDE, RUDE, RUDE....blah, blah, blah (seriously, I couldn't tell what she was saying. Thankfully.)..." So, I just turned away and continued trying to load my children into the car.

And then a friend of mine walked up and said, "Hey, is that lady yelling at you cause she wants you to close the passenger door so she can get into that spot next to you?" And then I look over. And sure enough, the spot next to me is empty. And the door is wide open.

Yep. I'm awesome like that.

Real Women Change Shocks

It was the beginning of another hot, windy, dry day on the farm. I looked at my watch. Barely 9am, though we had already been working for a while now; if you can call laying in the fields working. My two sisters and I decided to go sit in the truck for a while. We noticed my brother had left the keys in the ignition. I tried to convince my older sister to drive, but she was smarter than me, and refused.

It was the summer of my 14th birthday. I quickly got behind the wheel and after a few attempts (it was a standrad), the truck was moving. As I looked in the rear-view mirror, I saw my brother yelling and running towards us. I found the gas pedal quickly. And so we were off.

My sisters and I were crammed like sardines into the little white pick-up; flying over the bumps on the dirt/rock roads of the farm. The fields stretched on for miles. And so we rode on for a few more minutes.

As I drove the truck up the pivot road I saw my brother coming towards us. I slammed on the brakes just before hitting the white cement at the base of the pivot. As soon as the engine was turned off, we flung open the doors, and ran as fast as we could for the potato field. Once we were a little distance off, we quickly layed down in between the rows and rows of potatoes in hopes my brother couldn't find/see us.

No sooner had we layed down than we found we were being attacked by dirt clods. Huge, sometimes rocky, always hard, dirt clods. One after another. Landing within feet of where we were laying. In the distance we could hear my brother yelling about our stupidity for taking the truck and how we were going to get it when dad found out. And then, finally, there was silence. The bombing of dirt clods had ceased....

My dad did find out. He said that I went so fast and hard over so many bumps on the dirt road that I ruined the shocks.

My consequence: to change the shocks in the truck.

I'll Never Know

The question just keeps haunting me....

Why?

Why did he forget....

That he was loved by me and so many others.

Why didn't he remembered what he himself wrote to me...

"I know that Jesus Chirst lives and is our Redeemer"?

Why didn't he understand that there is always hope...

That anything can change if we but make it happen?

Why wouldn't he respond these past few months....

When I would email him to see how he was doing?

And I just keep thinking....

I wish.

I wish I could hug him just one last time....

And remind him that he was one of my very dearest friends.

I wish I could help him see the person I saw....

Who was such an amazing person in so many ways.

I wish he had the understanding and hope that I have....

That anything we are not content with in our lives, we have the power to change.

But he is gone.

And I will forever miss him.

I Like Big Butts and I Cannot Lie...

+

=

$600

Translation: Dave sat on our laptop and it cost lots of moolah to fix it.

All In a Days Work

Izak was throwing a fit because he didn't want to take a family picture....

Dave accidentally hurt Izak during the second take of the family picture....

Landon then hurt Dave, for hurting Izak, during the family picture....

And that's how Christmas family pictures roll around this household...

Did I mention earlier that day Landon bit Dave's nose in the middle of the choir singing (probably Peace on Earth) at church?

Story #2

I was so excited! I was packing up my little maroon truck, getting ready for the trek to Oregon. It was going to be a full weekend of snowboarding with my man. As I was walking across the parking lot, arms filled with snowboarding gear and my duffle bag, I gracefully slipped on a patch of ice and went flying into the air. I landed on the ice alongside my belongings. Quickly I looked around to see if anyone had seen my clumsiness in all of its glory. Luckily only my (now laughing) roommate. I picked myself up, grabbed my gear, and put it into the truck. I then limped my way back to my apartment. Within a matter of minutes it was as big as my behind. Later that day it was confirmed broken.

Monday morning found me walking between two friends to our spanish class. I, in my big black boot, would be getting my leg cast in a matter of hours. It had been three long days. We were within a few hundred feet of the building when all of a sudden a familiar air-born feeling was upon me. I once again found myself in the air, only this time I landed on my nose instead of my leg. Through gritted teeth I told my friends to stop laughing. Blood was quickly staining the white snow.

And then all of a sudden I was being carried in someone's arms. I looked up into the face of LaMar, our spanish class comrade. I protested, but he would not put me down. We were headed to the Student Health Center on campus to get an x-ray of my nose. And then the unmentionable, that has been mentioned twice already, happened. Within a few feet of the building, LaMar slipped on the ice, which threw me into the air. I landed on the ground with a thud. LaMar landed on top of my booted broken leg with a bigger thud.

LaMar was later recognized as "Man of the Year" at Ricks College.

Three Truths and a Lie

So, as I'm sure you all can tell, I've been having quite the dry spell with my entries lately. The other day Dave and I were playing the "Two truths and a Lie" game over text messaging. I decided to give it a try on my blog. Since I have NUMEROUS stories I could tell, I decided to make it three truths instead of two. And I decided that all of these stories will come from my college years. If you are someone that knows about these stories, please don't give it away in the comments section. I'll put a poll on the side of the blog so the voting can begin as to which story is the lie. So, without further ado, here is the first story....

L and K, my roommates, thought "Biology Boy" (a.k.a. Ben) was so cute. Every day after biology class I had to hear them gush over him. To each other. Because heaven forbid they actually talk to him. Or even look in his direction. In fact, the only reason we knew his real name is that I had happened to catch a glimpse of his paper with his name written at the top. L was just too shy to talk to him. And K thought she was flirting with a boy if she so much as smiled at him.

One day I got so tired of hearing about Ben knowing full well neither of them had any intentions of ever doing anything about it. So, I decided to do something about it. I called the college operator and got his phone number. And then I called him. And we talked. For a long time. I, of course, was using an alias because L and K would kill me if I used their real names and I personally had no interest in him. I flirted like he was the last man alive. He ate it up like candy. So much so that he wanted to know where I lived. Which of course I lied about. And wouldn't luck be on my side when he said he knew ALL of the girls in that apartment and he knew I was not one of them. I quickly hung up the phone.

A minute later it rang. L, K, and I yelled to everyone in the house NOT to answer the phone.

Our roommate answered the phone.

We were wildly shaking our heads to NOT give him any information.

She told him where we lived.

5 minutes later there was a knock at our door. We told everyone NOT to answer the door.

Our roommate answered the door.

L, K, and I ran for the back bedroom, leaped into the air, and landed with a thud, one on top of the other in between both beds. Luckily, at Ricks College, there was a rule that no boys were allowed in the bedrooms. A few minutes later we heard the door close. We tiptoed out of the bedroom and found our roommate. She then proceeded to tell us how not only did she tell the boys (we found out there were 5 boys that had come over! At midnight!) MY and only MY name, but she found my photo album and showed him pictures of ME so he could be sure to recognize me the following day in biology class.

I didn't go to biology class the next day.