Study Groups

If I had to pick the one thing that I hate most about formal education, my answer would be this: Study groups.

I'm a little antsy with my upcoming teacher certification, which I am completing online. ABW has asked me if I'll have study groups, to which I reply, "I sure as hell hope not" and then go into an explanation why I think it's unlikely that study groups will be used (that, my dears, is a little friend I like to call Denial).

When I was finishing up my degree, I had study groups in every single freakin' class. I would have dropped out had I known that fact before hand. If you've had even one bad study group experience, you know exactly what I'm talking about (particularly if you're like me: You are the one person in a group of four that actually takes a project seriously. While all three of the others are doing godknowswhat, you're creating, revising, and editing the project. And those assholes get the same 97% that you do, and then one of them has the nerve to tell you that the group would have gotten 100% had you done a better job.)

Well, I was perusing my pictures the other day, and the bad study group memories suddenly rushed to the surface of my thoughts. This girl was perhaps the worst study group member. Ever:

Lord help me if I have to deal with one more stupid study group.

Yesterday

Yesterday, I had a migraine.

I woke up with back and neck pain, due in part to the expensive pillow-top recently purchased piece of crap mattress we have (I knew we should have splurged on a Tempur-Pedic or Sleep Number bed).

Because I get rebound headaches when I take ibuprofen, I refused to take any. So I put heat on my muscles all day and iced my head, which started hurting shortly after I woke up. Despite my best efforts, it quickly went from slight annoyance to miserable pain.

So I took care of Tucker's basic needs, and cuddled him as much as I possibly could without giving into the nausea that had overtaken me. We watched Lifetime movies all day (with the volume at a barely audible level).

So then, when it came time to feed the dogs, I lamely dragged in a new 55 pound bag of dog food from the garage (which had only been there since Thursday). When I opened the bag, there was mold throughout. Not just the powdery mold - it was hairy, nasty, clumpy mold. The whole bag was ruined. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" kept repeating in my head.

So I took out a bag of frozen chicken and cooked it on the George Foreman. I took out a bag of frozen peas and boiled them. After dividing it all among five bowls, I poured vegetable soup over it for some flavor. The dogs loved it. But then they sat by the opened bag of spoiled dog food as if to say, "When do we get some of that?"

I barely had any energy left to make myself a sandwich.

Tucker and I went to bed at 8pm (a new record for me), and I prayed that when I woke up it the migraine would be gone. Luckily, someone took pity on me and granted my request.

So today, I can't help but look back and laugh at how absurdly miserable I was. There was nothing funny about it at the time, but I can at least smile today, thankful that yesterday is gone.

And I got through it. By myself.

Adoption

I spend a lot of time contemplating how Scout and I will tell Tucker that he is adopted. Although I think I know how I want to do it, I don't want to say something that will give him more abandonment issues down the road than (from what I've read) adopted children inevitably have.

I've been on an Amazon kick this morning. There are so many books on adoption.

I think I've settled on Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew and Talking with Young Children about Adoption for Scout and me. For Tucker, I've chosen Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born and A Mother for Choco (maybe even Horace).

I wish it was as easy as waving a wand - that Tucker could have a "normal" story; I worry about him so much. I just hope I can convey to him through my love that I would die or kill for him without the blink of an eye. And that love, of course, comes from the fact that he is ours - regardless of genetics.

Oh Lord

Sarah and I had a conversation not too long ago about living near people that were less than, well, savory. One of the downsides of living within our means is that we live next door to people that live above their means - and typically lead less-than savory lifestyles.

When Scout and I bought our house, we knew that we didn't want a mortgage payment more than X amount. Could we have afforded more? Yes. Did we want to have eat Ramen because of a high mortgage? Absolutely not.

So now I find myself next door to a neighbor who I think is intrinsically good (but not someone you would ever nominate for Best Wife or Best Mother); she let me borrow her lawn mower last weekend because mine needed a spark plug, she calls me just to see how I am doing, and occasionally, she brings me homemade jalapeño poppers.

Given all her neighborly qualities, you'd think I'd have nothing to complain about. But she just called me. And I can't get what she said out of my mind.

Neighbor: Hey, I just got some birthday money in the mail today. I've decided that I need a new bong. Can you watch my son while I go to the bong store tomorrow?

Me: Uhh. Yeah, sure.

Neighbor: Yeah, because I always feel so bad when I bring him in there. Are you sure it's ok to leave him with you?

Me: Yes- please do!

I feel terrible for her sons. And I've been over to her house to borrow an egg when she was tokin' it up right in front of both of her children (I think they're about five and eight?). They were walking around the house like it was totally normal to have a pot-smoking mom.

I don't know. I'm not the biggest conservative in the world. Seriously. I'm not one of those mothers who gets uptight about children being exposed to other types of lifestyles; I don't want them to be totally sheltered. But I do have a problem with children that have to grow up around illegal substances like it's totally acceptable.

So now, because Tucker has frugal, somewhat money-conscious parents, he's going to have to grow up around people like this. Or am I wrong? Is there just as much nastiness in the nicer neighborhoods?

They Did it!

After many, many months of hard work and the prospect of fertility treatments, Sarah and her husband are finally expecting!

Go wish her happy thoughts!

I guess I'm going to have to start some frenzied baby knitting. I have eight months to drive myself crazy with needles, patterns, and baby yarn (but I'm oh-so-glad)!

Congratulations, Sarah.

Laughable

ABW and I completed our first 5k this weekend.

It's funny to me that I even made it without falling into a coma. But when ABW called me today and said, "WE GOT TROPHIES!!!", I laughed and asked her what she was talking about. She said, "You got first place in your age bracket and I got second in mine!" I really thought she was joking, but she assured me that she was serious. We couldn't stop cracking up. (If I didn't have a nicotine habit to nurse, we would have stayed long enough to know that we had actually placed.)

So here's proof that we actually showed up for the race:


ABW said, "Pretend you're stretching or something." Yeah, not sure exactly which muscle I was pretending to stretch in this one:


She rolled her eyes when I told her to do the same thing:


Junior, looking cute as usual:


And Tucker, doing his best to throw up the entire contents of his stomach (story of my life):


So ladies and gentlemen, if my chunky self can place first in anything athletically related, there's hope for people everywhere.

Package List

I was informed by Scout the other day that he needs two things (for those of you still sending him packages. And I only do this so I don't have forty million people calling me asking me what he needs. I'm not doing this for charity, in case any of you had any doubts. :) And yes, I send him packages too!) Anyway, here are the two things: 1) Disposable cameras. 2) Dog treats. (His unit has adopted five street dogs, one of which is about to have another litter. He said the dogs fall at the soldiers' feet when they want some love. Scout assured me that he will especially take care of the momma dog for me.)

Also, every time Scout receives a package or a letter, I get an excited Instant Message saying, "I got the coolest package/letter from _________ today!" It really makes his day every time that mail comes for him. I'm indebted to all of you that support him while he's gone.