No, not the cat- though interesting sidebar: a client brings in a female Persian kitten she bought from a "reputable" breeder. Upon a routine temperature screen, it was discovered to be a male...
Anyhow, back to the real Persian flaw- Persian rugs are made to have an imperfection. These imperfect rugs- expensive, sought after, prized.
With that, here are my top 5 imperfections:
5. Bad knees
4. Remote control Control Freak
3. Laziness
2. Passive-agressive
1. Perfectionism
I'm sure I have others, and the top 5 changes on any given day. I'll always have some- and with these, because of these, I am prized.
And so are you.
1.25.2010
1.20.2010
Frozen Trusts
Even Jesus was betrayed- I know I knew better once upon a time. I guess I trusted in where my friendships were forged, somehow thinking they were impervious. I also never expected my trust to be betrayed in such a way that would leave it so broken, like a shattered mirror. Tiny pieces of that mirror keep reflecting on everyone I believe in, and then I get angry. With myself, and with the one who shattered it. I don't know how to forgive that, I'm not sure I can. I am just trying not to hate right now, trying not to be angry, but every time I look at someone with my girls and automatically question their intentions- it's there.
And I hate it.
And I hate it.
1.14.2010
Holographic Instruction Manuals
Maybe at first you saw this post title and thought, wow, she has finally and totally lost it. Well, hold on, I have got a pitch for you!
For anyone who has ever had to put anything with multiple parts together using a single page instruction sheet- one that shows a single drawn illustration of what you are attempting to build. Of course, the illustration is a model for 3-4 different versions of that item, never the one you actually purchased. There are arrows that point in general directions to give vague ideas of where each piece would seem to fit. (If that piece was included, and if it is not defective). Help lines do not exist for these products, likely because high caller volume would cause the demise of the phone system- this is the same reason there is no company website.
My simple solution: a hologram of a person correctly building each version of the product. Welcome to the future. We play a lot of fantasy games and never leave the house.
For anyone who has ever had to put anything with multiple parts together using a single page instruction sheet- one that shows a single drawn illustration of what you are attempting to build. Of course, the illustration is a model for 3-4 different versions of that item, never the one you actually purchased. There are arrows that point in general directions to give vague ideas of where each piece would seem to fit. (If that piece was included, and if it is not defective). Help lines do not exist for these products, likely because high caller volume would cause the demise of the phone system- this is the same reason there is no company website.
My simple solution: a hologram of a person correctly building each version of the product. Welcome to the future. We play a lot of fantasy games and never leave the house.
1.08.2010
Top 5 2009 Holiday Moments
5. The realization of what you need to get for a bike after getting a bike. (ie helmet, baby carrier, bike rack, etc). $$$$!
4. Knowing what happened to the cookies left Santa, not to mention the 2 dozen others that "disappeared" along with them...
3. Receiving the a second copy of a movie given to us from the same person earlier in the year.
2. Giving my true love Hotwheels cars...
1. After opening the last gift, my four year old standing up, putting up hands in exasperation, and saying "But I didn't get a triceratops snowglobe!"
4. Knowing what happened to the cookies left Santa, not to mention the 2 dozen others that "disappeared" along with them...
3. Receiving the a second copy of a movie given to us from the same person earlier in the year.
2. Giving my true love Hotwheels cars...
1. After opening the last gift, my four year old standing up, putting up hands in exasperation, and saying "But I didn't get a triceratops snowglobe!"
1.04.2010
Back in the Day...
Once upon a time, I was a preschool aged child learning to ride a bike. Without a helmet! Yet somehow I survived to adulthood, and now must be an example. Yay. Oh, I mean, YAY! I guess we all make sacrifices when we have children, in this case, what's left of my dignity.
At least I'll keep my swiss cheese brain intact.
At least I'll keep my swiss cheese brain intact.
12.31.2009
...And a Happy New Year!
2010 is here, and brought me an app to further avoid my laptop. This is where I impart my wisdom and insight gained from 2009, so brace yourselves...
And that's about it.
As for my plans for 2010? One day at a time, and I'm still working on tomorrow.
Happy New Year- may every day bring you the joy of loved ones, the hope of future blessings, and peace of mind and heart.
And that's about it.
As for my plans for 2010? One day at a time, and I'm still working on tomorrow.
Happy New Year- may every day bring you the joy of loved ones, the hope of future blessings, and peace of mind and heart.
12.10.2009
Bringing My Baby Home- the 2nd Time.
I've been waiting and waiting and I have come to conclude that there are some things people will never talk about. I am not people, so here goes.
It was a day like today. Maybe not as cold, but there was nothing particularly special or unique about it. Until 4pm, when I investigated too quiet Quinn and found her holding an empty bottle of Visine. It had been 2/3 full when I left it on my bathroom sink that morning. I was told she would be fine- but something told me to make another call. Poison Control sent an ambulance after 2 hours and Quinn becoming increasingly lethargic, sweaty, and limp.
In the ambulance, holding what was a shell of my tiny sweet snuggly baby, I realized one thing. I could only hold her, I could not hold on to her, and if she was to leave us, well, I think that's about when I stopped thinking. That's when it became about holding myself together until we knew. In a flash we were in the emergency room, filled with people, I don't know who they were, there were so many. A woman starts to ask me the obligatory insurance/admission information, then someone is trying to start an IV and Quinn is screaming "Let go! Let me go!"
And I am beside her, looking in her eyes, telling her she will be fine, everything will be alright. I am not wondering if I am telling her lies- I am sure I am lying, but I don't know what else to say.
So I keep telling her the only truth I know- how much we all love her. I watch her heart rate like I could do something if it changed, as after a while the atropine wears off and it slows down again. I am a liar, and I am useless, but I love my daughter and I was not falling apart until we knew. She cries every time she passes urine through her catheter. It is the only thing she does for several hours. We are transferred to the PICU in another hospital by another ambulance- I can't understand why they want her car seat for the ride. The hospital has a crib that could keep a monkey from leaving, and gets a few nurses flustered in opening and closing the sides. I can barely keep my eyes open- and I am so very scared to close them. A few more hours, a few more doctors, and I give in- as soon as I open my eyes I feel like I have failed some test. It is ridiculous and inhuman, but somehow, I should not need sleep when this is happening to my baby. My baby sleeps for several more hours, waking for a few moments here and there, taking a bite of something or a drink of juice, then immediately lying back down to sleep.
That afternoon, the day after, she was released from the hospital. There were no lasting effects- except that now she asks for juice more often.
There was a certain person and her story I kept thinking of throughout this whole experience. I thought of her at her child's side, and even if I was a liar and useless, I knew it was important to be right there and be present- because of her. I took strength from knowing that she survived, even after they knew. I wish I could tell her how much she and her daughter helped me that night, and how much I thought about them. I wish I could thank her. I wish I could thank her daughter.
I was lucky, I was blessed, and I thank God- often.
I got to bring my baby home.
I got to bring my baby back home.
It was a day like today. Maybe not as cold, but there was nothing particularly special or unique about it. Until 4pm, when I investigated too quiet Quinn and found her holding an empty bottle of Visine. It had been 2/3 full when I left it on my bathroom sink that morning. I was told she would be fine- but something told me to make another call. Poison Control sent an ambulance after 2 hours and Quinn becoming increasingly lethargic, sweaty, and limp.
In the ambulance, holding what was a shell of my tiny sweet snuggly baby, I realized one thing. I could only hold her, I could not hold on to her, and if she was to leave us, well, I think that's about when I stopped thinking. That's when it became about holding myself together until we knew. In a flash we were in the emergency room, filled with people, I don't know who they were, there were so many. A woman starts to ask me the obligatory insurance/admission information, then someone is trying to start an IV and Quinn is screaming "Let go! Let me go!"
And I am beside her, looking in her eyes, telling her she will be fine, everything will be alright. I am not wondering if I am telling her lies- I am sure I am lying, but I don't know what else to say.
So I keep telling her the only truth I know- how much we all love her. I watch her heart rate like I could do something if it changed, as after a while the atropine wears off and it slows down again. I am a liar, and I am useless, but I love my daughter and I was not falling apart until we knew. She cries every time she passes urine through her catheter. It is the only thing she does for several hours. We are transferred to the PICU in another hospital by another ambulance- I can't understand why they want her car seat for the ride. The hospital has a crib that could keep a monkey from leaving, and gets a few nurses flustered in opening and closing the sides. I can barely keep my eyes open- and I am so very scared to close them. A few more hours, a few more doctors, and I give in- as soon as I open my eyes I feel like I have failed some test. It is ridiculous and inhuman, but somehow, I should not need sleep when this is happening to my baby. My baby sleeps for several more hours, waking for a few moments here and there, taking a bite of something or a drink of juice, then immediately lying back down to sleep.
That afternoon, the day after, she was released from the hospital. There were no lasting effects- except that now she asks for juice more often.
There was a certain person and her story I kept thinking of throughout this whole experience. I thought of her at her child's side, and even if I was a liar and useless, I knew it was important to be right there and be present- because of her. I took strength from knowing that she survived, even after they knew. I wish I could tell her how much she and her daughter helped me that night, and how much I thought about them. I wish I could thank her. I wish I could thank her daughter.
I was lucky, I was blessed, and I thank God- often.
I got to bring my baby home.
I got to bring my baby back home.
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