one hour entertainment.

How to keep a 3-year old boy, and an almost 8-year old girl entertained and not arguing for up to an hour ... 


Mom—Stay upstairs doing whatever needs done. Find a little area to be called, "The Mailbox."


Daughter—Go downstairs armed with used junk mail envelopes, a pencil, a random stuff from your room.


Son—Pretend to be the mailman, delivering items between mom and your sister. Making sure to announce your presence with, "The mailman is here!!!!"


Repeat several hundred times.

Details.

This may be the most detailed post I’ve written in a long time. So, if it’s too much, I apologize. It may be a bit of a word-vomit moment.

It’s always kind of embarrassing to go back and read my previous posts. The one thing I notice more than anything? Any time I really start to delve into more emotional topics, I become the Queen of vague-ness. I guess I always edit down to the bare minimum because I feel like the less there is to read, the more people will want to read it. And usually, the topics that are more emotional, are emotional to me for a very specific reason—and I automatically assume I’m the only one that will be interested in them!

See, that’s what working in an industry that downplays text and copy will do to you!

I want to be a nurse. I am going to become a nurse. I start school in less than two weeks, and I’m over-the-moon and terrified at the same time.

There. I said it. Why is that so hard to say out loud?

I have never felt such purpose when it comes to school, career, or what I want to do with my life. I have my Bachelor’s in English and Technical Communications—and I’ve been in the field for six years now, but from day one, I knew it wouldn’t be forever.

The feeling I have about a career in Nursing is so much different. I started having moments of panic in the middle of the night about my current career about four years ago. I knew things were going to have to change at some point. But, dammit, why isn’t it ever convenient to make a ginormous career-change? Especially when you’re barely out of school … yeah … like most of us, I didn’t make the perfect decisions in college for the right reasons. I made decisions that were going to get me out of college, with a degree, followed by a job. Checklist complete.

{Insert the need to “embrace the suck.”}

I had glimmers of wanting a career in nursing way back when Taylor {now almost 8!} was born. The whole experience of the NICU and the stress and craziness surrounding her welcome into this world changed me to the core—and the nurses took care of us as much as her. They made sure my baby girl came home. They calmed our nerves. Helped us find our way as parents. And they, along with the entire staff at Sacred Heart Medical Center saved my baby's life. They took care of her when she wasn't strong enough to be home. But, it wasn’t my time to get things rolling yet. Being a new mommy, I had some serious growing up to do. 

A couple years later, my Dad was diagnosed with ALL, followed by chemo, radiation, stem cell transplant—the whole nine yards. Those glimmers lit a flamin' fire in me. What those nurses did for everyone in my family—it was so inspiring. There's no way to explain it. But, I know how grateful my Dad and Mom were in those moments. They were there every minute of every day—helping him live. It's a selfless job-but one that I can't imagine not being rewarding. But again, as driven as I was, it just wasn’t feasible at that point. 

Then, along came Brennan, and that want kept nagging at me. I spent nights playing out ways we could make it work. Trying to discount what I wanted to do because there was no easy way to do it. And now, we have baby Barrett in the mix, too. And it’s happening. Somehow. Some way. We are making it work. School starts in less than two weeks. No matter how long it takes. It’s not how long it takes to get there. {Although, let's hope for my family's sake that it's not TOO many years down the road.} It’s that I GET THERE. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. I can feel it.

It’s going to be hard. But I have years of motivation and want driving me. And when those feel like not enough … I have three amazing kids and the best husband in the world to remind me. I have a Dad that's still here and stronger than ever {no matter how he sees it in his own eyes}, and a Mom that's been through everything with him and is an inspiration by her own right, a sister going into the medical field because she's inspired, too. Another Mom, Dad, and Brother that are eternally supportive. And another sister that let me in the room during my beautifully hysterical niece's birth—hammering the final nail in my coffin as a Technical Writer. What can I say, I'm so lucky to have the people I do in my life. Finally, it's time to make it happen!


     

why i run.

I don’t run to lose weight.

I don’t run to build muscle.

I don’t run to wear cute workout gear.

I run because when I get into that rhythm of a smooth stride, when my body takes over and everything just, goes—

I am the cleanest, most clear-headed version of myself.

I run to make me … me. And it feels pretty damn amazing.

Born. To. Run.

I’ve always loved running. Forever and ever, amen.

Unfortunately, my body doesn't agree with this notion. For example, here is my body's response to my most recent jaunt, “Sprint? Go for it. You run your little heart out! I’ll support you 110%! Wait, what? You want to run more?! … like, more than three miles ... AGAIN!? WTF, crazy-lady!”

{Insert IT Band and Hip Flexor bis-natches.}

What’s more frustrating than knowing you can do something, having the motivation to do it, and having a body that won’t cooperate?

N.O.T.H.I.N.G.

{Insert me reading Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall in three days. Followed by two afternoons of highlighting the text, re-reading, and bouncing around my house with hopeful glee.}

I have off and on trusted my instincts when it comes to my knees and running. And over the years, I've made teeny bits of progress. I always thought there was something to running without super-cushioned shoes.

Running with shoes = IT Band being a bitch.

Running with no shoes = IT Band pain non-existent, ankle soreness prevalent, with a side of left foot metatarsal pain.

But, I never trusted myself enough to follow through for very long. I always assumed I was doing more damage than good. And every PT, doctor, or ortho made me feel like that was the truth. They pushed orthotics, better shoes, more physical therapy, blah, blah, blah ...

I now have hope that previously I was simply doing too much, too soon—that barefoot, or cushion-less really IS my solution. I just need to put more time into my training. I need to step back and understand that it’s not about the shoes. It’s about form, stride, and how those cushioned shoes force me to run. In my case—not how I should.

So, as I said, I’m hopeful. I’m scared it won’t work, too. But, it’s either this, or I continue on my already-begun journey of finding something that both physically and emotionally makes me feel the way running does. And that’s no easy feat … pun intended.

Everyone cross your fingers (and your barefoot toes) for me!

Changes are a comin ...

Change is the only thing that keeps us moving forward. Sadly, I don’t think we’re creatures that enjoy change. Well, I take that back. I, personally, am not one of those creatures that enjoy change. It makes me nervous. Anxious. Cranky. Emotional. I can’t sleep, and things begin to consume me. Not healthy, I know. Trust me, I’m well aware.

But, when I look back at my life, all the great things that have happened—were during a time of change. When our lives stop changing, we stop progressing. And I’m much more NOT ok with that than I am of being a bit clammy-handed for a bit.

But, when it comes to the security of my family, I am a fan of my comfort zone. We have this happy little routine together that keeps everything running smoothly. Except there’s just one problem … when you and your comfort zone are only together for one reason—the threat of change. That’s when it’s time to kick Mr. Comfort Zone to the curb. Currently, I am ninja-kicking and monster-jamming that guy out the window. Hardcore.

The best part though? I’m nervous. Anxious. A weeeeee bit cranky. And big-time emotional. But every step I seem to take in this new direction feels right. Awkward, scary, and new … but so very, very right. And hopefully, with a lot of work, and a little luck, older and wiser “me” is going to look back and thank myself for being scared— because without the scary stuff, it wouldn’t be as worth it as I know it’s going to be.

monday. santa.

this popped up on our computer screen this morning when taylor was getting ready to log into starfall.com ...

watch here.

apparently, the elves have been studying up on their iMovie skills.

tuesday. tummy tub update.

cutest baby boy in his favorite tub. he's fallen asleep several times in it.

for those that were curious ... i won't ever buy anyone another baby tub again. worth every penny.