IF FEET COULD TALK

I was invited on a date by this dream boat of a guy who is 6’6, blonde hair, gym goer body, an all around physically gifted man. I was thinking to myself, whoa dude… I have birthed 3 kids and while I may have went to the gym once a few years ago, I don’t have the beach body that would match you. I accepted the invite with the internal thought that I could google how to became a supermodel in 24 hours and everything would be alright.

Cinnamon rolls for breakfast was not on the google results list but it’s what I had and I was hungry. Instead of picking out an outfit for the date, I went junking with my friend Casey and found some treasures to use my new paint sprayer on. I completely axed my Cinderella transformation. I had dirty boots on, dust in my hair, my jeans were soaked from the rain we had ran through, and when I got home I found gravy on my chin. This was not looking promising.

I rescued this beauty!

Quickly, I tried to make myself look like I hadn’t just rolled out of the sticks. I tried on seven pairs of pants. The only ones that looked modest, without holes up in the thighs, didn’t cover my frickin ankles! So I had to change my shoes to coordinate. Time was running out and the only pair I came across that could complete the coverage I was looking for were these G.I. Jane boots which made me look like I had just returned from Vietnam. “It’s cool”, I thought… we are going bowling and I’m changing shoes anyways so he will not even notice. Plus he is so tall, I bet he can’t even see other people’s feet.

When I first saw him, I went to give a welcoming hug and stepped on his foot. Like a gentleman, he chose to ignore it but as the awkward person I am, I brought it to his attention, “I just stepped on your foot.” He laughed his supermodel laugh and said yeah you did but it’s okay, and then it happened…. he saw my boots. “Oh nice boots, those are coming back in style.” Ah. I’m accidentally stylist. Nice. 🤦🏻‍♀️.

You can see the humiliation in my face 😂

I had Marco Polo my friend Kathy up until this point where she was coaching me to be brave and not chicken out. Because up until the moment I stepped out of the car I wanted to go back home, put on jogging pants, curl up under a fluffy blanket, and binge watch Netflix while painting quietly in my living room. She kept saying, “just breathe, take a deep breath in and out”. That girl could coach a Lamaze class. Sometimes we need a good friend to push us outside of our comfort zone. Thank you my friend 😉.

I used to be on a bowling league so I know all about how the bowling shoes run a size bigger. I have big feet for a girl, size 9 to be exact. I told the bowling employee I needed an 8, to which he sets a size 7 on the counter and says, “they run big”. Yeah I’m aware. But I didn’t want to make things more awkward with my feet than they already were so I silently accepted the shoes. I thought to myself there are people in other countries that wear smaller shoes all the time for beauty so you can do this girl.

Next to our lane there were a bunch of young girls, they were all drinking but they looked like children to me. I must be getting old. It was refreshing to actually hear him say the words I was thinking. I’ve dated guys who are still chasing the youngsters and it’s mind boggling to me, seeing as my daughter will be 18 in 4 years. Handsome and he has a good head on his shoulders. I really should’ve put in more effort to make that Cinderella transformation possible. Darn.

Approximately 10 minutes after the bowling game had ended I started questioning if someone had a voodoo doll of me, tormenting my feet. We had retired to a quiet corner for more personal time and mid conversation I noticed I had put my G.I. Jane boots on the wrong dang feet! What the heck. I wonder if he noticed when I excused myself to the bathroom to fix the mishap. If he did notice he didn’t say, or maybe it didn’t bother him. The night ended with me standing on my tiptoes because he is a whole foot taller than me. Oh mercy. This is to be continued as we are going shopping for some junk together, and pray for my feet.

New beginnings everyday

My eyebrows look angry today. The lack of self care this week does not make for a grand entrance into the new year. The emphasis put on holidays annoys me anyhow. They are just days. You can make goals more than once a year. You can surprise your loved ones with gifts anytime. Turkey can be cooked on a Monday. Dress up as a witch this Saturday and eat Chinese take out, it’s not illegal. I’m not sure about celebrating Independence Day in February. There may be a law about explosives that I’m not familiar so do your research before you go rogue. I didn’t make New Years goals. I have different goals every week. No need to add something drastic to my plate.

I enjoy seeing everyone’s Facebook post about the changes they plans to make the new year. Why they didn’t start before? Probably because there’s an emphasis put on dates. It’s nuts. “You can not become a better person until January 1st”. That is not a law people. If it was I’d be thrown in the chokey for starting on my baking goal weeks ago. That is going to be a long standing goal. I have successfully stopped burning everything I bake however the cookies and biscuits I made yesterday do not taste divine. My daughter took a bite of one of the cookies I made last night. She said “it’s good mom,” as she threw the rest away. My ex husband also stopped at cookie number one. I’ve known him for 15 years, if he likes food he will devour it in one sitting. So the baking goal continues.

At least they look pretty

Most of the things I’m reading this morning involve a reflection of the year. The people you’ve gained in your life or the accomplishments you’ve had. But no one talks about the failures or the losses. These things are just as important. The way you respond to failure and loss will build your character and create a better you. When I reflect on this year we have just completed I only go back to May. That’s when I made a big change for myself and I don’t want to see the bad before that. But that’s part of it and I’m proud that I was strong enough to say that I want a better life. There is no greater feeling than to be in control of your own life. This year I’m in control of mine and I feel free. I’m going to go enjoy my freedom at work now, hasta la vista. Happy New Year.

The mad method to my baking

I’ve taken up a challenge to improve my cooking/baking skills. It’s more complicated than I originally thought. I’m not one to follow instruction well. In fact my motto in the kitchen is, “let’s just see what happens”, followed by fire, smoke and an “oh no, that can’t be right”. I’m not talking about your Pinterest recipes either. I’m talking about boxed Mac and cheese. I have a new oven. It’s changed me. I feel that I need to honor it and give it a good life. The other oven was somewhat of a slut and smelled like tomato sauce seared into an over done apple pie. This new oven in different. Loyal. I need to respect this baby.

Following those canned instructions like a pro

I wanted to up my game so I started using recipes from scratch. I don’t understand most of the baking lingo. It’s like a foreign language to me. YouTube has become my shadow. Sifting, soften, kneading, beating… come on recipe makers, I don’t know what the crap those things mean when baking! It sounds like I’m reading a romance novel. I had to google every one of those terms. I even moved a tv into the kitchen so I didn’t have to keep taking a timeout to figure out the meaning.

The madness… painting and baking with a tv in the kitchen. I love it.

I finally made my first batch of cookies from scratch. It was messy, sticky, and terrifying. But it was better than any store bought cookie I had tasted before. Does everyone know that these homemade foods are this good? I’ve thought about opening a bakery with these cookie skills! Of course I will have to substitute that crisco shortening stuff in all my recipes. I almost used it… almost. Until I saw the warning label on the back in bright red letters. Fire warning. Major fire warning. It even goes into detail on what to do when the stuff sets fire… oh heck no. I catch non flammable stuff on fire, no way I can take a chance on something that requires a warning label.

I’ve read that the energy you use when cooking/baking transfers into the food you are making. I guess that’s why people say, “made with love”. I wanted good energy in my food so I set out on an adventure to dress my body in something that would make me feel the best. I found this 1970s style wedding gown at the local goodwill. I go there and try on the old creepy dresses sometimes. Don’t judge me. You have your hobbies and I have mine. Anyways, this dress has the biggest puff sleeves I’ve ever seen. I felt like a princess. The back wouldn’t zip all the way up which ticked me off. Who the heck in this town is skinnier than me? I love this dang dress so I’ll just have to buy a corset to squeeze my spine into it.

There is nothing better than baking cookies in an old wedding dress. Swishing around like a mad woman, praying the fire department isn’t called later so you don’t have to explain your attire… it’s risky business. These cookies will be made with energy that you’ve never tasted before. Just when I think I’ve found the ultimate happiness I get a random Snapchat from a guy, a selfie. I’m like eh? I don’t have time for this silliness. I can’t respond right now. I don’t even know how to respond. I can’t send you a snap back of what I’m currently wearing, that would send the wrong message.

Since when did we revert back to the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics form of communication anyways? You are much more likely to grab my attention with a phone call. I felt it was safest to ignore. I do have good judgement some of the time. I only use the snap to convert my voice into something hilarious anyways. I may be 31 years old but I laugh everytime my voice and face gets altered by that app. My baking that night was a job well done. I am still munching on the goodness made with that unique energy. I’m planning to bake something similar for the ladies at work, they need a conversion of energy anyways. There’s bad energy “sifting” around. See what I did there 😉

I have grumpy days

About 8 months ago I felt so overwhelmed with my responsibilities. I felt no matter how hard I swam I couldn’t seem to keep my head above water. Just drowning day after day, working, thinking about work from home, thinking about home from work. An endless cycle of torment. I work out of town, about 45 minutes from my house. When I get in these overwhelming moods I tend to scroll the classified ads and apply for the most ridiculous jobs. I applied to be a chef for nascar… if you’ve seen my kitchen fiascos then you understand what I mean by ridiculous. I also applied for the army, to be an online psychic, and even the coffee queen of another country. Apparently you need a passport for that last one and I didn’t qualify. I always look for the jobs that are impossible to get without an immense amount of experience. It’s like playing the lottery with my career, which is my kind of fun. I scrolled passed an ad one morning for a wound care nurse position closer to home and thought oh wow something realistic that I could actually do to eliminate some of my stress.

I went for an interview and listened to what they were looking for in a wound care nurse. I told them what my current responsibilities were and how I managed things in my current position and watched as their eyes lite up. Hired right on the spot. But something was said that took me back a step, they said I might be bored because it was a smaller facility and they don’t see the kind of wounds I’m used to dealing with. That’s what I was looking for right? A reduction in responsibility so that I could stay afloat. Then why did that seem off to me? I kept those words in my back pocket and talked with my current boss about taking the position closer to home. She told me I could do this if I really wanted to but to take sometime and think about why I started working here in the first place. I don’t know about you but I take all advice seriously.

I went home, pulled out a notebook, and started jotting down what I loved about my job. I began to reminisce about when I was first hired. It was one of those ridiculous jobs I had applied for. I had no experience. I remember bringing up bandaids in my interview like that gave me some sort of wound care expertise. I also remember praying that I would get this job, and bartering with God that if I did then I would stick with it and do the best I could. I thought about how far I have came, the experience I’ve gained, the knowledge that I’ve obtained in my few short years. The only reason I was able to get that light up eye effect from the new job interviewers is because my current job has prepared me for it. They provided training and education, everything I had asked for, a wound care tech, paid conferences, readily available supplies, if I need it then I have no problem getting it. My brother works as a nurse for another facility and he has told me countless times how lucky I am to have the supplies readily available. I didn’t realize that was a privilege. They have to order the cheapest thing available and if they want something expensive it has to be approved and fought for… now isn’t that something. I didn’t know any different, I don’t have to ask my superiors to order supplies. If it’s the best treatment for my patient then that’s what I get. If we can reduce healing time then doesn’t that save money in the long run?

With all these thoughts rolling around in my head I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel and move on to the quiet life. I enjoy the fast pace environment, I enjoy learning new things, and having a facility that will provide me with the things I need to try new treatments. I’m not done growing as a nurse. Something I’ve gained from this experience 8 months ago is to slow down during my grumpy days and change my prayers. Instead of asking God to reduce my responsibilities to meet my abilities, I have started asking God to increase my abilities to meet my responsibilities. I’ve learned that grumpy days are okay, but don’t let those days turn into weeks, or months. Change it. Have fun at work. We spend a big majority of our lives in our careers, make it something you enjoy! As for me I enjoy learning and when I feel I can no longer do that then I’ll pack my bags and move along. By the way if you aren’t familiar with the discovery of penicillin, look it up. By far the coolest thing I’ve learned this week! I want Alexander Fleming’s lab coat. The falls nurse and I have been inspired to create a similar experiment for our skills fair coming up and it is going to be fantastic!

A little something I made fun at work! It’s a scavenger hunt I set up for my wound techs Christmas present!

Dear elf on the shelf, I hate you.

I did the elf on the shelve one year for my kids. I thought it would be a fun time for the kids, so I Pinterest all the fun things to do and went through the motions. I hated it. Every. Single. Day. I hated it. Just call me Mr. Grinch. I hid the little doll and pretended it had to rotate families each year so it could visit all the kids. I even went as far as saying that Santa already made his list out and the elf only visits those people who aren’t on the nice list yet. I thought I got away with it too. Sleeping in every day. Minding my own business, wrapping my own gifts. Then it happened. My mom took my kids shopping this weekend and the smallest kid returned with a new elf.

I side barred my mom and told her I hated that stupid elf. That there was no way I could have that manic in my house again, it gets in all my stuff and leaves me exhausted throughout the holiday. It’s as bad as being married again, no thanks. “We already bought it.” Mom said. 😫. My oldest daughter happily joined the side bar and assumed responsibility for this elf. Fine. I’ve watched Kali night after night arrange this elf better than I ever could. The little girls run out every morning searching for it and giggling after the mischief. I still don’t like the elf but I love seeing the girls happy and Kali enjoys doing it so it’s a win, win in my book. Until one morning when I didn’t see it. Scared the butter right out of me. Literally. I dropped my toast and the elf went tumbling, the girls crying and me apologizing to Santa. Ah, the holidays are right on track.

This morning I woke to find the elf in the same place. I thought, oh Kali forgot to move it. I went to move the thing. As I got closer I noticed a letter:

There’s a strategy I haven’t thought of!

Kali is a smart kid. Using the elf to control the other kids… genius. She sounds like a mini mom. I love it. I can’t wait to wake her up this morning and give her smiling secret eyes that say, “now you know, now you know why I hate this elf business hahaha”. Both younger girls have already visited the elf this morning and promised to be in bed earlier tonight. Genius. Maybe the elf will disappear again next year, maybe Kali will keep this going, who knows. As for now, I’m enjoying this delegated responsibility of maintaining the elf from a distance. This probably doesn’t align with my goals of being one of those cookie cutter moms but we all knew I’d never reach that status anyways so I’m cool with it.

My Therapist Would Be Proud

This past month I feel like I’ve been taken to the cleaners. It has me wanting to loop the Dairy Queen Drive thru until I slip into a diabetic coma. I don’t know what God is trying to teach me here lately but I can tell you I don’t want to learn it. I mean I asked for it, I asked for growth and direction in my life. And then I prepared for learning only the lesson feels more like discipline. Maybe those are the same thing, consequences are lessons that grow us into better people right? I don’t know. All I know is I don’t like it. I work hard as an employee, my time at work doesn’t stop when I clock out, I investigate cases outside of work, take phone calls off the clock and come in on a moments notice when help is need. I work hard as a mother, it’s an unappreciated job at times that is 24/7 regardless of whether they are at school, a friends house, or with their dad. I work hard in my relationships with people, I find time that’s not mine to give to you. I carefully word responses and refrain from saying what’s on my mind to spare feelings and save conflict. Maybe that’s not the best approach, I work hard but still need growth.

This past month I have asked for growth. I’ve set goals and made plans to meet them. Every positive has been counteracted with 2 negatives. So as I sit here with my large moolatte and reflect on this past month trying my best not to add my salty tears to this sweetly crafted goodness I see some critical errors I’ve made along the way. I think it’s time I had a crucial conversation with myself.

#1 You don’t give yourself credit for the passion you put into you’re job, and you’re not going to receive that anywhere else. So take a deep breath, hang that lumber jack calendar up, touch you’re salt lamp, and remind yourself why you are doing this. It’s not for praise, it’s not for appreciation, it’s for the patients and you can lay your head down tonight knowing you did everything within your skill and knowledge level to meet their needs. *side note to self, turn to march on the calendar to add some cheer on a gloomy day*

I’ll add quotes from counsel I turned to for each trial that’s came my way this month.

#2. You have been through worse before with the kids. You have been close to rock bottom. You’ve been through the motions. You know you are a good mother, more importantly your children know it. Do not let an outsider have their 60 seconds of condemnation with you. Brush off that ignorance and pay the fine, do the time, and move forward. And your 7 year old is sleeping now so it’s alright if you want to go ahead and shovel what’s left of her fries into your sad tummy. You deserve it mom.

Oh yes it should!

#3. Girl. Even I don’t have anything good to say about this one. What were you thinking?! Being with that guy is like stepping into a revolving door with no exit. You end up in the exact same spot you started every single time. You are a smart woman. You know exactly what you deserve. You know there is no connection and no evolution so what the heck are you doing lady. If I had a ruler right now I’d smack your hand harder than a nun in a catholic school. Save your time for things you want to be doing until the right person who meets your standards in what you’re looking for in a man comes along. Smh. Girl stop acting a fool.

This quote is referring to Jesus Christ and it’s one of my favorites to reflect on

You know… that was a good talk with myself and a nice emotional binge on this Dairy Queen haul. I feel better already. My therapist would be proud.

MURPHYS LAW STRIKES AGAIN

Pain is something I’m used to. I have to be careful when I sit Indian style, or to be politically correct “criss cross apple sauce”. Which by the way makes no sense because apple sauce can never criss cross. The cold hurts my bones and turns me into a hobbled old lady. I look like I’m auditioning for a role in the walking dead as a zombie. I’ve tried to get it fixed, ortho consults, injections, anti inflammatories, the works. I’ve given up on the dream of being pain free and walking like a runway model, besides I think the gangsta walk suits me better anyhow.

This passed weekend I watched too many hallmark movies and got inspired to clean my attic out, pull my Christmas decor down, and bake a pie. The pie part was challenging, I had to watch a YouTube video with my daughter on how to beat an egg and then we didn’t know what to do with it… the can didn’t say if we should mix it in the filling or where to put it so I had to contact an expert. My older brother Jo Jo. He has always been the baker/cook of the family and for Christmas one year he surprised me with a ton of cooking stuff I’ve never used until now.

A little too late, might I add. We already screwed up the pie and racked it up on our list of Pinterest fails. We like failure around here, it’s educational. The kiddos went off to their dads as usual on the weekend and I decided I’d get in the attic to try part 2 of my hallmark inspired weekend plans. I forgot my sister had a ton of stuff piled away since she is in the army and needs a place to keep her memories safe. Naturally I went through all her things like any good sister would.

Why are you saving this dinosaur?

After neatly organizing everything into clear totes, I started my ascend to the attic with the remains of my sisters youth. It was heavy. Too heavy. I got halfway up the ladder and gave the big tote a big push and whoosh, my shoulder felt like the devil being soaked in holy water! I dropped the nonsense memorabilia and laid against the wall pretending I didn’t just screw my shoulder up. The pain didn’t stopped, not after ice, not after nsaids and rest and praying. Crikey. Now I’m really in trouble with myself. I am a worker. I don’t simply watch a movie, or sit still for anything. I always have my hands going, knitting, crafting, writing, ect.

My new worst enemy

I decided to show my wound some attention when I realized I couldn’t hold my coffee mug and brush my hair without a stabbing pain. So I went to the dreaded doctor, actually I love my doctor but I hate going. It’s only torn, no break 🙌🏼 ! They said to take the rest of the week off and no lifting but that’s just a guideline… like stuff they have to say when you’re a patient so, I hid the note and went back to work the next day looking like the hunchback of notre dame with ice packs shoved in my scrub top. I’ve mastered the art of looking fine when I’m in pain for years so the next couple or weeks should be cake, fingers crossed.

Being home from work was too boring. I didn’t have anything to do while the girls were in school and I imagined spending sick days being productive, like laying on the couch with the flu while crocheting a blanket and folding laundry here and there but none of that happened. I grazed through the things I pulled down from the attic, reminiscing through memories of my dad. He’d probably make me a peanut butter sandwich if he were here. He always did that when I was out of commission. I remember crying in front of the fridge once in my wheelchair days because I couldn’t reach the milk and felt helpless. He saw me from his office and came to the rescue as always. I miss that old man. I was able to visit a piece of his life over the weekend.

He had great taste in books hahaha

I’ll be revisiting most of his treasures for the next few weeks as I’m not able to get them back in the attic so if I seem suspicious for the next little while it’s because I’m learning secret trades from an old crook hahaha. Talley ho!