I'm Going To Be An Auntie!

My baby sister is in labor right now.  I'm beside myself.  She called me at 3:45 am to tell me her water had broken, and I was never able to get back to sleep.  I just kept thinking "how can this sister, who just yesterday (it seems) was calling me 'Zennifuh' and putting lipstick on my Raggedy Ann doll with a red marker, possibly be about to give birth?"  

I went to school this morning and taught an Algebra II lesson for a formal observation.  It went pretty well considering the usual behavior of the class.  But I just couldn't keep my mind on school and I left to go to the hospital.  So, here we are, 12 hours later.  My baby sis has been in the hospital, in labor since 4am.  She's still got a long way to go.  I've just come home and Heather went to take my place in keeping my mom company.  My original purpose for being at the hospital was to be my brother-in-law's "back-up", but he didn't need me.  He hasn't left Megan's side for more than 5 minutes the entire time.

I'm so exhausted, but I feel so guilty just coming home and sleeping when I know what's ahead for my sister.  I have to admit though, it is exciting to know that I'll go to sleep, and when I wake up my little nephew will be here.  I keep reflecting on God's love and His generosity.  He allows us to take part in His creation of new life.  Watching my sister go through her labor pains so calmly and with such focus has made me aware of what a selfless thing it is to say "yes - I will shepherd these children for you, Lord".  Thanks be to God for all the mothers out there!

Spring Break '08

Last week was my spring break, and it was also Kirby's.  I specifically remember feeling sorry for myself in college when my boyfriend loaded up his car and headed off for a skiing trip, and most of my friends headed to warmer climates, leaving me to spend an uneventful week by myself for spring break.  But that was then... 

And this is now.  At age 33 an "uneventful" week is my idea of a perfect spring break.  We had an entire week of nowhere in particular to go.  It felt completely decadent to be able to lounge in pajamas until 9am.  My mother-in-law was visiting, 

so of course I used my "company" as an excuse to not do any cleaning, and it gave us a good reason to get out and do some fun things.

  

                           

                                           We went to the aquarium...

          

We spent some time cooking together...

Mr. Manners

Husband is in Las Vegas for some much needed R&R.  I must admit, I'm envious, but he deserves it.  The boys and I have been having a good couple of days, mostly hanging out with Gramma, shopping and a soccer game this morning.  

After we saw Gramma off at the airport, we went over to our friends' to celebrate their daughter's 2nd birthday.  There my boys proceeded to pull out all of the stops with regards to their table manners.  It was atrocious!  I'm not saying my kids have the best manners in the world, but generally speaking they do pretty well at the table.  Tonight, they were about a .3 on a scale from 1 to 10.  Banging cups, yelling, eating before prayers (thank goodness Kirby saved the toenail biting until he got home) and requesting for more with "I want...".  A stranger would think we just crawled out of a cave.  You have to understand that our friends have three girls, and they are well-mannered little ladies.  They finish dinner with "Thank you for dinner Mommy, may I please be excused?"  We Federockos apparently like to keep it real.  My boys were all but chugging out of the milk jug.  

When I was little and there was some sort of manners violation at the dinner table, the offender read the "Manners Book" to the two other sisters.  Oh yes, it was a Golden Book about manners, and it always brought a groan.  Just when I was considering checking to see if it's still in print, Connor looked up sweetly at my friend and said, completely unprompted "Thank you for the cake Mrs. Hermanson".  Okay, sometimes we Federockos can pull out a victory.

And on that note, I'll leave you with Kirby's bedtime prayer this evening:

"Jesus, bless my daddy and help him to win a lot of money this weekend so we can go somewhere special".

I'm pretty sure I'm up for mother of the year this year.

From Dinner to Doodles

From time to time, I find myself making a dinner that is particularly un-kid-friendly.  God bless my boys though, because they don't get an alternate dinner, and they don't usually complain too much.  Tonight was one such night.  In an attempt to use up leftover leg of lamb, I resorted to "google cooking", and soon had a pot of Carolina-style BBQ lamb simmering.  Suffice it to say, the boys left the table hungry, and I wasn't exactly up for seconds myself (special thanks to Husband and my mother-in-law for insisting that it really wasn't bad).  

Tonight I made it up to everyone by suggesting we go out for ice cream.  On the way there, we decided to play "I Spy", which has become very popular with Kirby, our 5 year-old.  He didn't want to give his brother a turn, and who can blame him, when Connor (2 1/2) plays the game like this:

"I spy with my little eye something glass...it's not a window...it's not a door...it's a parachute!"

-Shoot!  I was so close to guessing before he told us the answer.  Who knew we had a glass parachute in our van?

You know, it was the ride home that really got me.  We had switched to playing "20 questions", and the boys decided it was Daddy's turn.  This is when I got a great reminder of why I married Husband.  He was thinking of someone...hmmm...and after about 11 questions, I realized that the someone he was thinking of was in fact, Rooney Doodle, the blue Doodlebop!  Seriously, you gotta love a guy who has thousands of people to "think" of, but chooses a blue singing, dancing, something. 

The Irony of Memory

"So...what is this incessant need you have of continually checking and re-checking your schedule?  I mean, what's this about?"  

Believe it or not, those words were actually spoken to me a few weeks ago by my academic advisor, of all people.  The story behind those words is quite long actually, and not really worth going into.  But still, a person I revered - whose class was so far one of my favorites - was indirectly accusing me of a compulsion!  Okay.  Look, I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit of a "checker". I have a tendency to run back in the house to make sure the oven is off or the curling iron is unplugged.  I've been known to set my alarm clock and roll over 3 or 4 times to push the button to verify that I do in fact, have the alarm set for "a.m.".  I can even remember opening the refrigerator door just a crack after shutting it, to ensure that the light had turned off.  They make medication for stuff like this, I know.

The irony of it all is that I can't seem to manage to "check" for the important things.  Things like: my keys, my purse, my cell phone.  To Husband's great frustration and annoyance, I am constantly running back in the house to grab these items.  I am daily asking him to call my cell phone so I can see if it's in the house, the car, they yard, etc.  Last night we went out to dinner and of course, this morning my purse was nowhere to be found.  When I broke the news, Husband just rolled his eyes and sighed a little.  It's par for the course.  We don't panic anymore.  Fortunately, my oldest son found it on the floor of his bedroom, where I left it when I took his brother, sleeping, from the car to bed.  

So here's my point:  I have a heck of a lot going on here.  Don't all moms?  Add to that all the stuff I'm trying to keep straight for my 14 hours of grad school.  Could we just assume that I'm going to forget things and compulsively check because I'm so used to forgetting, and move on?

After a six month hiatus from my ultra short blogging career, I've decided it's time to hit the keys again. This time, I hope my new perspective on life as a mom and "non-traditional" student is evident in my writing. I cringe when reading my first - and only - two blogs. Could it be more obvious that I wasn't ready to go back to school at the time? Now...
I love it!  

I love my program, I love my classes and my professors, I even love student teaching in a high school (which I never thought I could manage).  But you know what I love the most?  It's a little embarrassing to admit.  I love feeling smart.  I can say in all honesty I've never felt this way before.  I enjoy feeling like a contributing member of my classes, and gosh darnit!  I'm so proud of my 4.0 average.  For those of you who got great grades in high school and college, or who knew you were smart or at least thought you were.  Congratulations.  For me, it took a little longer.

Almost one month ago, I posted my first (and until this, only) blog about my new journey. My original intent was to blog for a few minutes each day. I love to write - I really do! I'm always walking around with some story running through my head. Over the past four weeks, I've come up with at least 20 solid blogs that would have been fun to write and probably pretty interesting to read. So what happened? I'm too tired...

I'm too tired to write at the end of the day, I'm too tired to think beyond what I'm already required to think, whatever energy I do have is doled out with abandon to my boys and my poor husband, who often finds himself crawling into bed next to a completely comatose wife. Just ask him. I swear, he is the most patient man in the world.

I'm feeling good about my journey so far. But, I still have some conflicting feelings. I enjoy all of my classes and I actually enjoy studying! Don't get me wrong - I do not enjoy the feeling of constantly having something hanging over my head, but I have really enjoyed flexing that huge and underutilized muscle between my ears. What's more, I think I'm good at it. Still, I feel like the rest of my life - my "old" life that is - is passing me by. It's hard for me to accept that my friends' lives do not actually stop just because I'm hardly in them anymore. I know, I know, it's hard for me to believe too. Apparently I am NOT the center of the universe. Apparently, people can survive without me. The problem is, I miss my old life...

...and now that I'm on this road, I can never get it back.