I just took a big swig of my pink lemonade crystal light, and then saw something black in there. On closer look, I discovered a tiny bug. What? A bug?
Let’s hope that’s not an indication of how the rest of my day will be going.
Month: March 2008 (Page 3 of 3)
My friend Kristy wrote about the joys of getting actual mail (in the mailbox, not the inbox). We don’t get many letters anymore, what with email, cell phones, and texting taking over all forms of communication. If I get anything handwritten at all, it’s likely to be an invitation, a thank you note, or a postcard, instead of a letter.
But I remember back to my days as a missionary for the LDS church. Living in Germany, with no one but a companion who is virtually a stranger, trying our best to follow all the rules and teach strangers about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Sometimes the days were discouraging. Getting a letter from home was like a lifeline. A link to our past, and our home. And a wonderful pick me up after a hard day. We would often come home for lunch and we would ALWAYS check to see if we had post. And if we did, we would read it out loud while preparing or eating lunch. If we didn’t feel like sharing the whole letter, we would at least tell the news or the jist of the letter, or at least any funny parts. Because it’s not fun when your companion gets mail and you don’t. So we would share in our little joys.
I could count on about a letter a week from my family. Back then, a letter took at least a week to travel overseas, not like today when missionaries can check for email once a week or even text their families, so our questions were often slow to be answered, if at all. We were required to write to them once a week, too, and I can say that I Always did send off a letter to my folks. I could just imagine my mom freaking out if she had to go more than a week or two for a letter (sorry, mom). Since the price of postage to the USA was not cheap, I would often include one page letters or postcards or pictures for friends in my family’s letter, with a little note to “please send this to so and so”. What nice parents–they always forwarded them along. Of course, they probably read them all, too.
Ryan was by far my biggest letter writer. He was madly in love with me and had to convince me through his letters and packages that he was indeed the one for me, without actually coming out and saying it in those exact words. What can I say? His plan was to just inundate me with letters so I would fall in love with him. We’ve been married for over 15 years, so I guess it was a good strategy. While in the Missionary Training Center, he was almost obnoxious in the amount of letters he sent. This was back in the day when you could still hand deliver letters or packages, so he would just swing by the MTC on his way home from class and drop off a letter. And since he wrote to me while in class, and apparently his classes were extremely boring, because he would use his time to doodle extensive designs on the envelopes. Everyone in my MTC district knew by the envelope that a-the letter was for me, and b-that it was from Ryan. The guys in my district got a little bit protective of me, and did NOT like “that Ryan guy.” I have to admit, it was kind of distracting, and I almost told him to just buzz off and leave me alone. But I liked the packages too much, and wouldn’t want to cut that off, now would I? Little did I know, but the creative genius behind any and all fun packages was Ryan’s sister, Julene. Talk about a bait and switch–(Just kidding, honey).
During one long and hot summer in Mulheim on der Ruhr it had been a while since either of us had gotten any significant post from home, and as we checked the mailbox one afternoon, there was one lone postcard with a picture of BYU on it. It was from Ryan. Not much in the way of news or a letter, but at least it was something. I noticed that there was no postmark over the stamp. I decided to try an experiment and dropped it into the nearest mailbox. Sure enough, the next day or so, that postcard showed up in our mail. We must have dropped that same little postcard into the post six or eight times that summer. I’m sure our postman hated us. How obnoxious that they keep getting the same postcard. Dumkopf! But at least it was something in our lonely mailbox, instead of nothing.
At least back then, as a missionary, we didn’t have to receive stupid junk mail, bills, or notices from the IRS.
(And don’t forget, every comment gets us closer to that 2000 mark, where someone will win our comment prize!)
Well, I didn’t have to take John to the doctor today. I just asked him (again) how he felt, and he said in an angry voice, “I feel fine! I’ve told you a million times!” Ok, I get it. You feel fine.
But I’ve had some appointments to make that have been nagging at the back of my mind, so today was the day to make them. I called:
a-an optomotrist because my eyes have been doing some weird things, lately. I was “rejected” or told that they are not providers for my insurance. Hmmm. When I looked it up online to see who exactly would be a covered provider for my insurance, there were none. So, I called Costco to see if can do eye checks, and scheduled an appointment with them. After all, I can do my shopping while I’m there, right?
b-the hospital and scheduled a mammogram. Ugh. I am now at that magical age when it is recommended to get one of those things. Hip Hip Hooray.
c-scheduled the old pap smear and exam. It’s been (cough) quite a while since I’ve seen them, and I guess it’s time to go. Besides, the mammogram people asked where to send the results, so I guess I have to have a current doctor to send them to, right?
d-the dentist to reschedule some appointments for my girls.
Whew! Maybe I should schedule an oil change and an orthodontist’s appointment while I’m at it.
First of all, thank you to all of you who gave advice on our teenager’s school issues. I really appreciate it.
This morning, we have had a few issues with my other son, who is four. He came into our room at his usual 7:00, and was complaining that his side hurt. I helped him into bed with me, and asked him where it hurt. His left side. He was breathing heavily, and kind of writhing around. I asked him if he had hurt it or bonked it or fallen down or anything. No. I asked Ryan (who was home with the kids last night) if he remembered if John had hurt himself. No. I’m trying to figure out if his stomach feels yucky, or if it’s just his side, but I’m not getting too much information from him. He keeps saying “it’s the twist”, and I wonder if perhaps he could have a sore muscle.
I got up to use the bathroom, and asked him if he wanted to go down for breakfast. “No,” he said softly. This is when I knew that something was WRONG. This is my kid who wants breakfast immediately, and sometimes eats two or three breakfasts in a morning. I took him down stairs, and offered him the nectar of the Gods… a Capri Sun. He refused, saying he wasn’t thirsty. I was starting to panic, now, because something must be terribly wrong. We called our neighbor, who is a doctor, but he had already left for work. I called our pediatrician, but they didn’t have anyone in the office yet. I did a quick google search for “pain left side” and got this here helpful chart which lists a bunch of possible reasons for pain on the left side–all of them requiring you to call 911 or go to the emergency room immediately. That was not comforting at all.
I decided I’d better quickly get dressed, so I could whisk him off to the doctor’s office as soon as they opened. So I threw some clothes on and made myself 1/2 way presentable and came back downstairs to check on him. “How are you feeling, bud?” I asked nervously, “do you want some breakfast?”
“I feel ok,” he said, ” can I have a yogurt after this show?”
What? You feel fine? He was sitting up, and after the show he got up and asked for his juice box and yogurt. So, I fed him his breakfast, and then he was running around like a normal kid.
“Does your side not hurt anymore?” I asked.
“No, it’s gone,” he said.
How is this possible? He’s excited about going to his sports class and is happily watching tv right now.
I’m very relived that he’s feeling better, but I am just wondering what in the world was causing the pain, and is it going to come back? I think it was all part of a well calculated plan to keep me from going to yoga today.
I’m frustrated with my 13 year old. He is a smart kid but he just doesn’t remember to turn his assignments in. I sometimes wonder if he’d remember his right arm if it weren’t attached. He missed a few days of school to go on a trip with my parents, and since then it’s been a struggle to catch up. I feel like all I do is nag and nag and nag and get on his case about his grades, and yesterday I really lost my temper and yelled at him. I felt like a horrible mother, he felt like a horrible kid, we all felt horrible!
I need some suggestions on how I can help him be responsible for his own work, and get it all turned in ON TIME. One friend suggested I go to school in my pajamas with him and sit by him during all his classes and remind him to write things down or turn things in. My husband told him about a friend of his whose son got bad grades, and then was his dad’s slave for the summer. While these are great ideas, they seem a little bit drastic to me.
So I would like your suggestions or things that have worked with your teenage boys.
Thank you in advance.
I’m linking in with Shannon’s Works for me Wednesday where lots of people are asking questions today.
For quite some time our house has looked like this:
There have been snowmen all around, since we’ve had so much snow. This one is my favorite, though. I think he started out upright, but with the wind and a little bit of sunshine, he quickly looked like this:
The large wreath, which I LOVE at Christmastime, was getting to be a little bit out of place towards the end of February. This past week we’ve finally had a taste of spring, with the temperatures creeping up to the 50’s. The snow was mostly melted and the kids were so happy they could play outside and jump on the tramp, even if it was still kind of cold. Saturday was finally the day. The day that it wasn’t supposed to be cold or rainy, with all the snow melted from the roof and from the ground by the house. The day that my dear husband would take down the wreath and the Christmas lights. March 1st. It’s a little long to have the Christmas lights up, in my opinion, but we were not alone in our lateness. A few of our neighbors (especially those with two story houses) also had their lights up this long.
While he was up there he took these pictures. Why he had the camera with him on the roof, I’m not sure, but I guess he was following that scout motto….”be prepared.” 
It seems this little bird had been living in our wreath for a while, and was a little bit confused about where his home was going. He flew off to a neighbor’s pine tree, so I hope he’s enjoying his new little home.
It’s a good thing he got the lights down early in the day, because later in the afternoon the storm came through, dropping the temperature to about 30 degrees and the wind really picked up. I saw on the news that we had 73 mile per hour winds going on here for a while. We did lose a tricycle, which is now across the street, but no damage to the house or anything. A few of the neighbors lost shingles or garbage cans. Then the snow came, and it feels like winter again. Darn. I guess we’ll have to wait it out for a few more weeks until it really begins to be spring.
You know that I have an affinity for all things free, and contests of any kind, right? And you know that ONE DAY I WILL WIN A CAR, right? Well, I’m going to. Someday. I can’t say when, but I WILL. Positive thinking, right? Well, I want to give you the heads up on a little contest that’s going on where you, too, could possibly win a new car. A local radio station, 101.9 KENZ is asking you to guess when they will play their millionth song. It could play anytime between now and memorial day. The closest guess wins a Mazda Miata. I’ve already entered my guess, and really folks, it’s just a guess. I have no scientific way to calculate the day the song will be played, although I asked my genius husband to figure it out for me. He declined. But if it’s just a guess, then you might as well enter, right? Because I would LOVE to win, but if I didn’t win, I would love for YOU to win. Then you could drive me around and run my errands with me.
So, to enter, just go here.
And really, I don’t think you have to be a local resident to win. If you live somewhere far away and you should happen to win, then I’d be HAPPY to accept your prize for you until you can get yourself to Utah to pick it up.
And on a much smaller scale, I’m hosting my own little contest. I’ve been at this blogging thing for a while, and I’m coming up on my 2000th comment. So why not have a reward for you, the commenters? That’s right, folks, prizes!! Yes, you could say I’m just bribing you a to comment frequently, or you could just look at it as another contest. What’s the prize?
I’ve looked into my bag of tricks, and so far I’ve come up with:
–my favorite little IKEA spatula
Yes, it’s a cheap little spatula set, and that’s probably why I love them so much. That and they are just the right size for your scooping needs.
–A $10 Toys R Us gift card,
–Two free Kids’ Meals at TGI Fridays
–Two Tickets to the Hale Center Theater in Orem (if you aren’t local, then I’ll find something else for you)
–An entree and soft drink from the California Pizza Kitchen
–Two free kids meals to Mimi’s Cafe
–a book. I don’t know which book, but I’ll find something
And whatever else I feel like throwing in.
So, go forth and comment, and when we reach comment number 2000, confetti will come out of the screen, balloons will fall from the sky, and prizes will be awarded! Ok, I probably can’t make confetti come out of your screen OR balloons fall from the sky, but there WILL be prizes.
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