Tuesday, June 26, 2012
I will start this post by saying that I am incredibly blessed to have happy, healthy children who are able to get into a normal amount of mischief and mayhem for their ages. I thank God everyday for my amazing life. This does not mean that I don't have my own little bouts with craziness which cause me to over react. Some refer to things such as the following as "first world problems". I like to think of them as my children trying to cause my mental break. Tony left for The Youth Migrant Project on Sunday morning. He and 50+ youth and adults from our parish are going to be Christ's hands and feet to the migrant workers of the Skagit Valley region here in our corner of the world. And as irrational as I know it is to feel this way, I cannot help but resent him for it. At some point, my children decided it would be great fun to get hurt or sick every time dad is out of town. Last time Tony was away, Olin split his eyebrow open. At least then I had a car. Tony took the car with him this time. He left around 9 am and by 6 pm I was in the ER with Aaron getting his hand x-rayed. Our adorable little 2yo neighbor dropped a rock on his finger. We spent nearly 3 hours waiting for them to splint it up and tell us his x-ray was inconclusive. Should he have trouble with it still in a week, we should bring him back in. Now remember yesterday when I said I was packing up to go to summer camp? Yeah. And since we have a lot to prepare for, my lovely daughter thought that this morning would be an ideal time to head back to the same ER. Not even 48 hours later! I was getting dressed while the kids headed up front to put on a cartoon and start some toast. I was blissfully unaware that Micah had decide to stick a pistachio in her nose. "I just wanted to put it in my nose a little bit," she said all matter of fact later. Then, realizing that she was having a hard time getting it back out, Olin (her coconspirator) decided to help. Using a chop stick. Of course, rather than helping, this just ensured that we would in fact have to go in to the doctor, as it pushed it back into her sinuses beyond my reach and any hope of blowing it out. I start to panic as I realized I have no way to get us to the hospital and do not want to burden anyone so early in the morning. I called Tony, and as I do so tell Micah we need to go to the doctor. "But I'm still in my pajamas! I have to get dressed if I am going to see the doctor. I will go find clothes." Because she is a girlie girl, she is concerned about this, but not about the nut in her nose. I consider telling her she can't as a form of punishment, but realize how passive aggressive and ridiculous that is. Tony, of course, finds all of this hysterical. It's easy for him to see the humor when he doesn't have to try to get a snot covered pistachio nut out of his daughter's tiny nostril. (Admittedly, I know that it's funny, but the only kind of laughter I could muster At the time was the hysterical I-don't-know-whether-to-laugh-or-cry-but-if-I-stop-this-creepy-laugh-I'll-burst-into-tears kind of laugh.) He tells me to try Linda, our amazing friend from the church. Her daughter, Kylie (our babysitter and Micah's best friend ever) is sent to rescue me by taxiing us to the hospital and sitting in the waiting room for us to finish. I owe these women something huge. Like, mega huge. I'll bake them cupcakes, I think. The nurses and doctors at the hospital were amazing. And are smitten with my little dimpled angel who already knows how and when to turn on the charm. I fear for my sanity when she hits puberty. After a little wrestling with the bugger, the doctor pulls out the offending nut and tells my little
monster angel that she can't do this ever again. She promises, but unfortunately I have a nagging feeling that all of the attention and fawning over her only enforced the idea that this may be a fun activity anytime she is feeling neglected. Which, for her, is anytime you are not focused solely on her for the entirety of the day. So, I am hoping that this is the last time in a long while that we see the inside of the ER. We do still have another 24 hours or so before we leave, though...
Monday, June 25, 2012
It's kinda funny to be following up my I-am-going-to-act-more-grown-up post by talking about how I am going to spend the summer at camp. This is just the way my life is, me, pretending to be all mature and the rest of the world wondering who I think I'm fooling. (as a side note, this may be why Tony and I work so well. I think he is the only one I may be fooling). Anyhow, summer camp. I get to spend all summer at camp CRAFTING, Y'ALL! I'm excited about that. And about how my family gets to be there with me the whole time. The kids have never been to camp, so it's kind of cool to be experiencing it together for the first time. I am not so excited about having to meet so many new people. In fact, that is probably an understatement. I am terrified. Panicky, even. The rational side of me (my better half) is having a hard time convincing my stranger/danger inner being that everything will be ok. But strangers are dangerous. And cooler than me. I am perpetually an awkward eleven year old. (this is where I would insert a picture of me in 6th grade if this were a cool blog, because isn't it amazing how much I have changed? Classic ugly duckling turned beautiful swan. Except I'm not so sure I am all that different. And I can't find the picture, which may be a more accurate reason.) I sometimes feel trapped in a corner of my brain while another Tricia takes over and will not stop talking. Word vomit. Lots of it. Other Tricia keeps talking and talking while I am in my head screaming "Shut up, shut up! Stop talking!" But other Tricia ignores all my requests. Then I start talking about all of these entirely too personal stories to be sharing with someone I met 5 minutes ago. And I relate every story they have to something that once happened to me, even if it has nothing at all in common. And the word vomit keeps coming. And then when it's all over, I never want show my face around anyone again. My heart is racing thinking about this. I have to go out to staff training in two days, and I am having a hard time breathing. Tony is sweet and he keeps telling me how he has confidence in me. That he thinks I am great and that I have so much to offer and blah, blah, blah. He means well, but I feel like he is the stage dad behind the curtain encouraging his tone deaf daughter to belt out that tune. I know he is confident in my ability, but that doesn't mean his confidence is based in reality. I may have blinded him to my total lack of social decorum with a few kisses here and there. And yet, here I am. Packing up for a summer full of the unknown. This is the growing up part, I guess. The fact that I want to hide under my blanket with my eyes shut tight and my fingers in my ears but here I am, rolling up sleeping bags, packing away our flip flops and flashlights. I may disappear a couple times to hide in a bathroom while I am there, but I will be there. I will sing the loudest and most off key I ever have. And Tony will be there, telling me I sound like an angel.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
so, i think that i am going to give this blogging thing a try. i'm a little anxious and feel a little overwhelmed but i think that it just may prove to be easy and perhaps even a little therapeutic. i have been trying lately to have a little more patience, be a little better organized and a little more grown up. maybe getting things down and out onto the internets will help kick my behind into gear.