Serious static

Today was a pretty day (sunny and not too chilly), so the kids and I spent an hour outside jumping on the trampoline (after bundling up and putting on an extra pair of socks). It took a while to clear off all the fallen leaves from the trampoline, but it was totally worth it. I always have such a fun time bouncing around with the kids. (Don't worry, I only jumped a little - my neck is still healing.)

This picture is just so funny I had to share it. Sammy always has little wispy hairs falling down in her face, but this is just out of control!

And it wouldn't lay back down. We tried.

(NOTE: If you look closely enough you can actually see a wad of pink bubble gum in the corner of Sammy's mouth. So you see, she is still obsessed with chewing gum since her cage was removed.)

I love my front door

It's a little thing, really.
A front door.
Just a way to get inside our house.
But anyone who knows me well knows how much I love houses with unique, ornate, or especially beautiful front doors.

After living in the same house with the same plain green front door for almost 12 years, it is so incredibly exciting for me to have a new home with a gorgeous front door. I have to admit it's one of my favorite things about our new house. That and the full grown trees that turned a heavenly shade of gold this fall - making our backyard glow with color.

And to top it all off, my sister, April, created a lovely fall wreath for me to hang on the door. I absolutely love pulling into the driveway and looking at my beautiful front door decorations. I can hardly wait until December 1 - the day I have set to allow myself to change the wreath to the holiday one made for us by Mike's mom. (Stay tuned for pictures - it's a beauty.)

How fun to decorate the entrance to our home with lovely wreaths created by our extremely talented family members.

Thank God for turtlenecks!

So as I was reading through the various posts on my blog, I realized that I never posted an update about my surgery. Some of you may be sitting at the edge of your seats at this point dying to hear the gory details. Well, forget it! I was asleep (of course) during the entire thing. And really it wasn't nearly as bad as I had made it out to be (go figure) during all of my obsessive worrying prior to the actual surgery.

My neck was pretty sore for the first few days. It is amazing how heavy my head is! Just holding it up wore me out. I would sit at the dinner table with my head in my hands for added support. Mike kept asking if I was okay and my reply was always, "My head is just too heavy!" (For those of you who are surprised by this...keep in mind that while I may act, sound, and write like an "airhead" at times, I really do have a very dense brain lodged between my ears.)

The doctor removed my stitches the day before Thanksgiving. He said it wouldn't hurt, but he lied. It pinched when he pulled them out! He did caution me to leave the glue bandage on until the following Monday so the incision wouldn't reopen accidentally!!!

What!?!
If there is a chance of my neck falling back open, I really don't think we should be removing the stitches yet! What was he thinking???

Anyway, it has now been almost two weeks since the surgery, and I am feeling much better. I still get pretty tired by the end of the day, but I am back at work and slowly easing back into an exercise routine. I don't really even take Advil for pain or discomfort anymore. Good, good, good. And the purple mark the surgeon put on my neck is almost completely worn off, so the incision is not as obvious. Yay! It is still a bit swollen, but the doctor assured me that wouldn't last more than six months! Gee, that's comforting. And now it just feels like I have a gummy worm stuck in my neck right above my collarbone. Fun stuff!

I still try to keep it covered up when I am teaching, since the fifth graders asked me not to "gross them out" with my neck! I'm just glad that I love wearing turtlenecks in the winter.

Keeping up with the Joneses

According to Wikipedia:
"Keeping up with the Joneses" is a popular catchphrase in many parts of the English-speaking world. It refers to the desire to be seen as being as good as one's neighbours or contemporaries using the comparative benchmarks of social caste or the accumulation of material goods. To fail to "keep up with the Joneses" is perceived as demonstrating socio-economic or cultural inferiority.

And why, you might ask, am I sharing this with you at midnight on a school night?
Because this is the phrase that ran through my head as I made my way back to the computer tonight rather than heading to bed as I had planned (and promised Mike).

I love reading my friends' blogs. It is so much fun to see what they are up to and laugh at the unique way they tell their stories. But every time I read one of their fabulously insightful and most often entertaining posts, I start to feel inferior...

I look at my own blog posts and wish I had written something more witty.
I look at the pictures on my blog and wish they were more exciting.
I look at my blog and berate myself for not posting more often during the month.
I look at the comments on my site and worry that no one finds my life interesting enough to read about.

What is with this insane idea that I have to do more and be more and have more??? Why can't I be satisfied with myself? Why can't I accept that I do what I can when I can and that is enough for right now? Why do I take something as fun as reading about other people's lives and turn it into a self-imposed guilt trip?

A couple years ago I taught a lesson in Relief Society about the "perfect woman". I began by listing all the things we "should" be doing or be good at or be striving toward. (cooking, cleaning, spirituality, quilting, baking, scrapbooking, sewing, teaching, service, genealogy, fitness, nutrition, correspondence, patience, etc.) As I listed these, the women in class began to see that the point I was making was not that we really should be doing all of this but rather that it is obviously ridiculous to think that we are expected to! From there we had an amazing discussion about how we put so much pressure upon ourselves as women. We look around at the amazing people around us and see their incredible talents and positive personalities. Then we add those traits and abilities to our own "internal to-do list". We begin to feel inferior because we are not willing, able, or capable of doing everything that we have somehow convinced ourselves we should. We begin to feel overwhelmed by our presumed inadequecies and this quickly leads to unhappiness and/or depression.

Obviously I was a part of this discussion. I was the teacher that night! But did I learn anything? I thought so.
Until tonight as I realized that I have convinced myself that if I don't post something terribly witty and insightful on my blog immediately I am not worthwhile. I have decided that giving up another hour of precious sleep is worth it when compared to failing to complete a blog post before I can relax my mind enough to fall asleep.

So, here it is.
I am doing my best at "keeping up with the Joneses".
I am adding this post to my blog tonight in the hopes that it might free me from some of the imaginary guilt I have heaped upon my own sholders. I also hope that perhaps others who read this will think, "Hmmmm. Sounds like me sometimes," and take a step back to reevaluate what really matters.

I know I will.
Uh, Tomorrow.
Maybe after I post a few more times...
And create a magnificent meal for my perfectly behaved children and doting husband.
Oh! And finish decorating my immaculate home.

Hmmmmm.

Don't try to make me feel better

Today I was talking to one of the teachers at Binford about my upcoming surgery. I told her that I was pretty nervous - especially after my thrilling visit to the hospital yesterday. In an attempt to reassure me, she told me that her cat (yep, you read that right) had the same surgery because it had thyroid problems.

Okay, now that I know a cat survived the surgery, I feel completely confident in my own surgeon's skills. HA!

Anyway, after explaining that her cat had thyroid surgery, this sweet and well-meaning teacher told me that her cat went on to live two more years! When I told her that I hoped to live more than two more years, she realized she hadn't made me feel better. In an attempt to correct her error, she said, "Well, those are cat years though."

Are cat years the same as dog years?
Let's do the math.
(2*7=14)
14 years?
I hope I survive longer than that!
(hee hee)

NOTE: For those of you who are concerned that I really plan to die shortly after surgery, relax. I am trying to deal with my fears by masking my true feelings with sarcasm and bad jokes. I just think it's a funny way to reassure someone as they prepare for surgery.

Pray for me (please)

So today I spent my first day off work in 2 months at the doctor's office and the hospital doing "pre-op" stuff. (CODE: Nothing that couldn't have been done 30 minutes before surgery. But why not waste a perfectly lovely day by dragging the nervous person through various piles of paperwork and once again describing how large the incision will be in her neck!)

First I had the pleasure of sitting in the doctor's office waiting room for almost an hour. Then when everyone else in the entire place had been taken back, seen, and dismissed...I was called back to see the doctor. The nurse deposited me in a tiny, dark room and said Dr. Pugh would be right with me. (CODE: Sit back and relax, girl, because it'll be a while before he shows up!)

After waiting in the exam room for another 20 minutes, the doctor finally strolled in. (Oh, and by the way, I am now officially late for the appointment I have at the hospital. Yeah, the one the doctor set up for me!) After glancing at my chart for ten seconds, he said he needed one of "the girls" to come in to talk to me. I assume he meant a nurse but had forgotten (or never learned) that calling them girls is demeaning and unprofessional.

When the poor nurse came back in, she apologized that she hadn't realized I was a pre-op appointment and started shuffling through my chart. As she started to explain where to go when I reach the hospital and what I need to bring with me, she realized that I was supposed to be at the hospital for my appointment at 11:40 AM so I could fill out any necessary paperwork before meeting with the pre-op nurse. (It is now 12:15 PM. Hmmmmmmm.)

She quickly left to go find Dr. Pugh again.

Unfortunately, he has vanished. Maybe he was hungry and went to lunch? (I know I wish that I had the time to grab a sandwich. Had I known I would be sitting for such a long time, I would have left and returned with lunch for everyone!) Eventually she was able to find him and he came back in to chat with me again. (CODE: Tell me again that he will cut my neck open and take out half of my thyroid - he even drew a little line on my neck so I could visualize the incision!)

So, I finally get out of there and drive to the hospital. I arrive at 12:40 PM (one hour after I should have been there). I stand there waiting to be helped while an old lady tells the THREE nurses some story about breaking her wrist. They continue to ignore me as I shuffle back and forth and make frustrated huffing sounds. Finally, one of them asks my name and I explain the reason I am late. They hand me a pager.

If at this point you are slightly confused, you are not alone. Since when do you get a pager when you go to the hospital? I wasn't at a restaurant waiting for a table. I just needed someone to check my address, phone number, and insurance information.

So I waited another 15 minutes for my pager to go off.

Once I actually got back to the pre-op nurse, things went smoothly. She was super nice and found my sense of humor funny rather than irritating. (I think Dr. Pugh thinks I am half crazy and definitely does NOT find me amusing.)

They took my vitals (good) and my blood (that was unexpected), asked tons of questions about my health (understandably) mental well being (interesting) and whether or not I have a living will (do I need one right now?), gave me a sterile cup (concealed in an unmarked brown lunch bag) to collect "a sample" for a pregnancy test (what?!?!?) before my surgery, and sent me on my way.

Now, I feel tons better about this surgery...

WHAT?!?!?!?

I am terrified and it really doesn't help to read the little booklet that lists all the things that might go wrong. Full disclosure, I know, but I don't really need to know some of this stuff!

In summary:
I spent the day getting irritated at doctors.
I am now better informed of the "risks" of this surgery.
I am scheduled to have thyroid surgery on Friday, November 16.
I go into surgery at 8:00 AM and (barring any complications) I should be out by 10:00 AM.
I will stay overnight.
I will go home with plenty of pain medication and a large bandage on my neck.
I am more than a little nervous.
I better get flowers from Mike. (hee hee)

Stinky-dinks

Remember Shrinky Dinks?

Well, during a recent trip to visit April and Pete, we decided that it would be "oh so much fun" to get some Shrinky Dink plastic and share this long-lost but fortunately not forgotten tradition with Jon and Sammy.

We must have spent a couple hours designing, sketching, coloring and cutting our pictures out. And then came the fun part. Watching them shrink in the oven.


Unfortunately, as they began to shrink, they started to curl up onto themselves. When we removed them from the oven, they cooled so quickly that we were unable to flatten them (the way the directions had suggested) so we ended up with mutilated, distorted, and destroyed pieces of plastic.

Not so much fun as it turns out.

The kids were pretty disappointed, but not as much as the adults.
After all, we actually remembered making Shrinky Dinks as kids. It had always been so much fun! None of us remembered our pieces being ruined in the oven. What was the problem?

The comment was made that Shrinky Dinks stink.
Pete said, "Yeah, they're stinky dinks!"

But seriously, what is the secret to Shrinky Dinks?
Does anyone know?

The Sticky Truth

In November of 2005, Sammy had a cage put in her mouth. One of the rules was "no gum or chewy candy". Believe it or not, she was valiant at following this rule. It wasn't always easy for her, but she learned to like other types of treats and only ate something sticky once...on accident, of course!

But today, Sammy had her cage removed.
Finally!
And now she can chew gum!

The orthodontist removed the metal appliance, but he saved it in a little blue envelope. After six months, if Sammy has managed to keep her tongue from pushing her teeth out of position again, she will remain "cage-free". The orthodontist has warned her that if her tongue causes her teeth to spread apart again, he will need to replace the cage so that her tongue can be retrained to stay in her mouth.

So for the next six months Sammy will be chewing a lot of bubble gum...and brushing her teeth very well.

Trick-or-Treat

Every year, since the kids were born, I have made Halloween costumes for them. I admit that when they were younger, I had a lot more say in what they dressed up as. I loved having a boy and a girl because I could do so many cute matching costumes. Over the years I have made a lot of costumes! This year the kids each chose the patterns for their costumes. From there, I had "creative control".

I made Jonathan a jester's costume. He had wanted to do this for a couple of years and we could never find a good pattern that didn't just make him look like a clown. While I was sewing his costume, Jonathan came up with the idea to change the design of the hat. The one in the picture is what he came up with - nothing like the original pattern, but MUCH cuter!

Sammy, on the other hand, wanted to be a cowgirl. She already had an adorable red cowgirl hat, so I selected material to match her hat. Her costume was difficult to put together (I had to rip out a lot of seams and start over twice) but it turned out adorable!

I have always told the kids that when they get into middle school, they will not be going trick-or-treating anymore. It feels too much like begging for candy (which it is, really) and they eventually outgrow the "cuteness" that lets them get away with it anyway. So this year was Jonathan's last year trick-or-treating and Sammy's will be next year. (Not to worry, they got plenty of candy for their efforts!)

That does not in any way mean that I will no longer be sewing costumes for the kids! We have already talked about plans for next year - a Halloween costume party at our house perhaps?