Not as Good as I Once Was...

So, I'm going back to school. No mid-life crisis. Not unhappy with being a stay-at-home mom. I've just really always wanted to be a labor and delivery nurse when I grow up and what better time than the present? Sam is in school all day. Austin has an after-school academic Kindergarten program available to him. Why not now?

Although I already have two degrees in health-related fields (I know, I really like school), nursing programs are competitive and impacted. I can't even apply yet for spring semester so in the meantime I decided to brush up on Anatomy by taking a course at the community college. Registered for that, no problem. Unless you count me searching online for a college that still had the course available without a wait-list of 40 or more people a problem. Finally, I got the course. In Fairfield. An hour away from my house. Whatever, positive, stay positive....

Next on my list, take a pre-nursing skills assessment test. The test is the day after tomorrow. No sweat, I will be tested on reading comprehension, math, science and English. As I am reviewing the practice test book over the past few weeks I am shocked to discover that although I have a Bachelor's degree in Biology and one in Nutrition, I am performing horribly on the science review. Science is so broad! And please, it has been 10 years since I graduated college. I guess I haven't reviewed the Krebs Cycle lately or thought about covalent versus ionic bonds. I haven't thought to work the purpose of the endocrine system into conversation with the other moms waiting to pick up their kids from school. Needless to say, I am eat, sleep, and drinking my science review. And also wishing I had a few extra weeks to remember what Avogadro's number is.

Alright, so I've enrolled in the brush-up course, signed up for the test... Next up, make sure I have all the prerequisites taken so that I actually qualify to enter a nursing program should I even be selected. I check websites again, scouring the small print for anything that I may have missed. I notice that while "Pharmacology" is not a prerequisite, it is strongly recommended. Seriously. Strongly recommended? Well to me that means required. If it comes down to the last spot in the program and the only thing separating me from Jane Doe is that I've taken Pharmacology, well sign me up! Of course, that wasn't so easy either. This class has a Biology prerequisite, so I waited for Sacramento State to send me my transcripts, so that I could send them on to the community college. The community college took 2 weeks to process the transcripts. After MANY phone calls I was ready to add the course online, only to find out that the course was already full and I had to get special permission from the teacher to add it. Good thing I had planned ahead and become e-mail buddies with the instructor. Now I'm at 8 units. I can do this.

Finally, thinking I am good to go, I come across a prerequisite I have never taken. Eeek! Human Development Throughout the Life Cycle. Okay, if I don't sleep, only grocery shop every other week, cut down on the luxuries in life (yes Sam, that's clean enough to wear!) I'll be fine. I am now carrying 11 units this fall. Plus, I need to put together admissions packets for each nursing program I want to apply to--which includes attending counseling meetings, ordering more transcripts, getting recommendation letters, etc. Did I mention that the boys have golf, swimming and soccer? Or that I actually prefer to sleep 7 hours every night? Suck it up, I guess.

So really. What better time than the present? Why not now?

Conjuring Memories and Feelings

What causes the random moments that create the strongest rush of emotion in me? I tell you, I have tried to figure it out over and over. My son, Sam, sang songs and served me tea and cookies for Mother's Day at school a few years back. While the other moms were sobbing, I was smiling. You couldn't have pinched me hard enough to get a tear to squeeze out. From there on out the other moms would tease me about my "heart of steel." And yet, I've cried during my fair share of Hallmark commercials. Why? My own flesh and blood is reading me a letter about all the reasons why he loves me and yet some random guy on T.V. who has his hands wrapped around his wife's eyes so that she will be surprised by the car he just bought her for Christmas is the one who has me running for a tissue? Senseless, I tell you...

A sure way to get me (and NO, it's NOT "catch her the week before her period"), is music. I am a big-time country music fan, but really, whatever the genre happens to be, a good song is a good song. Every time I hear "In My Daughter's Eyes" by Martina McBride I want to run out and get pregnant so that maybe this time I'll have a girl. I just watched a movie tonight that I literally cried throughout because of how heartfelt the music was, and how well it told the unfolding love story. Can't get me to cry when I give birth, but I am still sappy about my boy's baby songs that I used to sing to them while I rocked them to sleep.

For me, songs trigger memories of moments and the feelings associated with those moments. Even though I don't miss him a bit, I still think of one of my ex-boyfriends every time Toby Keith sings, "He Ain't Worth Missing." I remember dancing to "Da Butt" in a parking lot with my sister and a friend at a high school church activity. And the song about Daisy Dukes reminds me of going out dancing with my girlfriends in college. "Strawberry Wine" makes me think of my first love and "Fruit Salad," by The Wiggles, means play dates at Amy's house with Jen. Every time I hear "Next to You, Sittin' Next to Me" I call my sister Carrie and blast it as loud as I can when she or her answering machine picks up. (Not sure why that is "our song," but it is...)

My neighbor Dana and I found a box of old tapes this past Christmas in a desk my mom gave me. We had a great night dancing and doing the Running Man in my kitchen while our kids looked at us like we were crazy. They finally gave up and joined in. Eighties music is just too catchy I guess :)

Sometimes I imagine that my life is set to the music of the songs that affect me most deeply. I picture myself as a free spirit. Someone who loves independence and wants to be accepted the way that I am. That's only a part of me though. I am a mother, I love my family, I am a good friend, I am reliable and think of others before myself. I am great at finding "the perfect gift." Music is integrated into every part of who I am. There is a song for my every mood, every feeling, every thought. I've already passed my love along to my boys. Sam is rarely seen without a Walkman, which he keeps in his backpack and carries around all day. Austin though, is my true music lover. Countless times I have walked past my little loner's room and have heard him in there, content as can be, singing one of a million songs he has memorized. No matter where he goes or what he is doing, he is singing. I adore that.

Music is a good form of communication too. Who hasn't given or received a "mixed tape" in their day? And even if not every word in a song applies to you, there is the relatability factor. I tend to connect emotionally with songs that relate to how I am feeling at certain time periods. Right now, you won't catch me listening to too much Black Eyed Peas or Madonna. I'm not in that place in my life. Heartfelt songs where the actual melody is not as important as the words is what you will find on my iPod. My music is a window to my soul.

A Guide to Clearing Your Schedule

The perfect way to stress out an organized and extremely busy person? Leave her calendar at her parent's house, 45 minutes away from where she lives. When I got home after a relaxing weekend in Fairfield, I noticed within seconds that I didn't have my calendar. My sister, Carrie, helped me tear apart her car (waking up my sweetie pie niece...sorry Lillie). Not that it would be easy to find in the messy excuse for a car my sister drives. It didn't help that she parked under my parent's bird-infested tree all weekend. Actually scratch that, maybe she'll actually wash it now (love you, Carrie).

My mom found my calendar in the room I had slept in. She said it blended in with the bedspread. That is NOT going to help me figure out what time Austin's soccer practice is or what day I see my chiropractor. She read off tomorrow's schedule for me and said, "I'll photocopy July and we'll e-mail it to you and then drop the calendar in the mail. You'll have it in a couple days." She must have heard the anxiety in my voice. I've checked my e-mail at least five times and it hasn't come through yet. I guess I could just stay at home tomorrow and find out from the phone calls where I was supposed to be and at what time I should have been there. That actually doesn't sound like too bad of an idea to me. I like days when there is nothing on the calendar. Doesn't happen too often, but it's nice in theory.

I called my mom back an hour later. "We just e-mailed it sweetie. And you know, don't let ANYONE tell you that you don't DO anything. I looked through June and July and you have a full-time job! I can't believe the things you do every day." Tell me about it... Too bad I have no idea what any of them are right now. Some days I run on auto-pilot. I check my calendar before bed (so I know if I need to set an alarm or not) and first thing in the morning (so I remember what I read the night before). I am quite sure that I can get through the next couple of days without it. The biggest problem really, is that I get phone calls, make appointments, schedule meetings, play dates, coffee with a friend, and a million other things on a daily basis. We might make it to all of our events tomorrow, but too bad that I wasn't able to write down which day is girl's night out or what time Sam's swim teacher changed his lesson to. We SO won't be at either of those things.

I've tried the "calendar hung on the wall" thing. I've tried the Palm Pilot thing. I've tried the "scribble a bunch of things down on random pieces of paper" thing. I need it with me to function properly and smoothly. The "carry the calendar around everywhere with you" thing works the best for me. Until I do the "leave it on a bed in another town and try not to freak out" thing. I better go check my e-mail again...

A Reason for Everything

I've been thinking a lot about fate lately. Maybe fate isn't entirely the right word. Maybe faith is more like it. Faith that everything is going to work out exactly like it is supposed to. That there is a plan for each person and even when things are tough, you can take comfort knowing that this is the course your life was meant to take and that everything happens for a reason.

At church yesterday, the pastor spoke about sensationalism and "doom and gloom." Basically, that when you believe that "the economy will never survive" or that "the next generation of adults are worthless," then you are ignoring faith. You aren't believing that things are as they were meant to be and that God has a plan for everything. It's comforting to me to think of things faithfully. My life might feel like it is spinning out of control, but there is someone who knows why. God planned for this. He knows what is going on and He meant for it to happen. I meet people every day who reaffirm this for me. People who say exactly what they were meant to say. Be exactly where they were supposed to be. Come into my life exactly when they were supposed to enter.

I just had a friend send me a text message a few days ago saying, "Life works in weird ways. I tell you I get amazed daily about life and how we are brought together. Just remember everything happens for a reason. Hold that beautiful head up." (The last part I think she HAS to say, because she is the one who does my hair and makes me beautiful, but moving on...) It was honestly like she could read my mind and knew what I had been thinking. I needed her to say that. I needed her to reaffirm what I knew...that everything does happen for a reason. Is it random? I think not. I have been praying like crazy lately, trying to straighten things out in my mind. Just like everything else, I know that God had his hands in this. At times when things seem the most out of control and I start to lose my faith is really when I need it the most.

This is not to say that I am just going to sit back and cruise through life expecting that God is going to fix everything I mess up. Or that it doesn't really matter what I decide to do because no matter if I do something or nothing, I will turn out the same way. This isn't how I feel at all. If anything, I feel more empowered by knowing that God has a plan for me. I feel comfortable saying things that I want to say and doing things that I want to do...taking chances really, on having a meaningful life. The little voice in my head, my gut instinct....I am listening to these. I do believe that this is God talking to me. I do believe that in these ways and others he is guiding me to my fate.

So, here I go. I am trusting. I am faithful. I am excited to experience what God has in store for me. Everything will be as it was meant to be.

A Complete Mess

I admit it. I am weird. I like to clean. I really, really like to clean. But not just that....I like to organize too. I have a label maker that has seen more than its fair share of usage since I brought it home to live with me. I know the Queen of England is not coming over for dinner, but just in case, my formal dining room table is dusted and polished and there are candles standing by ready for action. I am quite sure that no one cares, but my boys' closets are color coordinated. One thing in particular that I am especially fond of is vacuuming. It's really too bad too because my kids also like to vacuum. What a waste of a favorite household chore! They vacuum and then I have to vacuum again so the lines are straight and the dirt is FOR SURE gone. (I know, I already said I was weird). Or else I wait until they are off at school and I sneakily vacuum without their knowledge.

For some reason though, I carry the cleanliness principle into every room of my house EXCEPT my own office. My office is a disaster. How can I be so clean, neat, and organized and yet the room that I spend so much time in is a complete mess? I know where everything is...most of the time. I almost always can find the right pile to look into when Sam needs the paper that his teacher sent home three weeks ago that details a report he needs to complete by tomorrow. I know where my coupon is for Ann Taylor, oh no wait that one is expired, well I have a new one over here in this basket, somewhere...just keep digging. Speaking of baskets, it's not like I don't try to keep it neat and organized. I think to myself that if everything had a "place" then it would be easy to keep clean. So now I have a basket for my purses, a bin for soccer forms, a wall organizer for office supplies, a dresser with cards and craft stuff, a work table that is perpetually full, a cork board, 2 memo boards, a bin for Sam's schoolwork, one for Austin's, magazine organizers, jars for buttons and pens, a bookshelf! For crying out loud, I have a bin that is labeled "Label Maker". Now that is just sad....

I suppose in a lot of ways this all makes perfect sense. I am a stay at home mom. I spend my life making other people's lives better and easier. My house is visitor-ready. My kids have clean clothes on every day. My laundry is put away, the kitchen is swept and the kids don't need to ask me where to find a pencil because I have their homework corner straight as a pin. I don't have time for my office and I honestly don't want to clean it up. When it comes to my own space, I am surrounded by things that I love. No, don't try to hang another thing on my cork board or you might cover the BEST picture of a dinosaur that Austin drew me. Or the note from Sam that says, "Mom I love you in the hole in tire wold." I can't find my car keys all the time, but my painted vase from Sam and my ladybug made out of a flowerpot that Austin created are ALWAYS by my computer screen. I have an unbroken sand dollar that we collected from the beach last summer, a piggy bank from when I was a baby, and my beloved grandparents' old cookbooks on a shelf. I guess I can deal with the mess. There are a lot of memories hidden underneath.