I never quite understood the lyrics of that song by R.E.M. But its title seemed fitting to the turmoil going on inside my brain.
If you know me well, you probably know my brain is always in turmoil. There are usually a thousand thoughts racing across my poor brain cells, and making my brain overly tired and overworked.
This time the reason for my unrest is my spiritual life. I seem to be losing my religion.
My faith is intact. I pray daily, I read the Bible daily, and meditate on it. I just cannot bring myself to attend service at my home church.
Until recently, I was one of those people who hardly ever missed church on Sunday. I volunteered, and actually enjoyed being there. I simply need to be surrounded by others who believe and worship as I do. At least I was that person until recently.
I'm not sure when it all began to disconnect, or the reason behind it. At first, I started missing church because I was sick, or one of the kids was sick. Slowly, it began to feel as a chore, not as something I wanted to do.
But only on Sundays. I just couldn't bring myself to attend services on Sunday.
I have been making time to attend daily services near work. I have no issues going to a different church, with a complete group of strangers, and worship during the week. But when it comes to Sunday, my will power depletes and I just cannot find it in me to go.
I have been knowing something was off for a while. I started to notice the "change" going on in my brain. I thought maybe it was a midlife crisis, although my midlife crisis come and go rather frequently and I'm not old enough to have one.
Then I noticed how happy I was to attend daily mass with a bunch of strangers but I simply dreaded the thought of going to church on Sunday with my church family. I have been attending church there almost 20 years, yet I no longer want to be there.
I'm not sure what's happening. No one has been rude or demeaning towards me or my family there.
Am I having a religious crisis? Perhaps. Identity crisis? Quite possible.
Funny how a long drive is the best source of therapy for me. I was driving yesterday for work and started thinking about this particular issue. I often use my driving time to think about whatever is bothering me at the time. Most of the time I simply have a conversation with myself and it helps clear the confusion that's my brain.
A few things popped into my mind as I was wondering what was happening to me.
I'm not questioning my faith or my beliefs. I still feel very strongly about those, so it is not my faith I'm losing.
But I do feel like I'm missing out on something at my current church. I miss not having other people like me there, people I can relate to. Who are these people? Mothers, wives, other people who are going through the same period in their lives. Other women with young children, women who may have the same interests as me. But more importantly women I can worship with.
I am missing the chance to worship with other women like me. I miss not having a group of women who I can attend bible studies with. Not just women, but women who are going through the same stages of their lives as I am, who may be juggling work, kids, husbands, just as I am.
Going to a different church of the same denomination is a possible solution. But the nearest one is 30 minutes away and I've already "tried on" before and it didn't fit. Does that mean I'm the misfit?
And I can always try another denomination. I'm a believer God is the same in every church, we just chose to worship Him differently, so attending another denomination is not an issue for me.
What if I'm the one who simply doesn't fit here, there, or anywhere?
What about my kids? Is my "crisis" going to affect their faith? Strengthen it? Should I start saving for their therapy bill?
One thing is for sure, my spiritual journey has always been filled with roadblocks that turn into road trips. I wonder where this road trip will take me...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tutorial on Twins
Parenthood is an adventure, no one with kids will disagree. That adventure often turns into an episode worthy of the Amazing Race when you have twins. In my case, twins plus one make life quite unpredictable.
People often makes comments to me about how wonderful it is to have twins and how they wish they had twins. I'm sure they are trying to be nice, but in all honesty, no one knows what is like to parent twins unless you have them. I don't care if your kids are close in age, or if you have 19 of them, twins will throw a wrench into your parenting skills.
We weren't first time parents when we learned twins were on the way. We have a daughter who is wonderful in every possible way. She is funny, sweet, beautiful, outgoing, a dream come true. We wanted to give her a sibling, and ended up giving her two. We figured our experience as parents would pay off. How hard could it be? We had been through the midnight feedings, diaper changing, reflux, etc.
I wish someone had given me a tutorial before the twins arrive. Better yet, I wish they had given it to me the minute I walked out of the doctor's office, eight weeks into the pregnancy and with the news of double trouble on the way.
So this is my attempt at preparing future mothers (and fathers) of twins. My tutorial on how to parent twins.
1) The minute you find out you are expecting twins, run out of the doctor's office screaming. People will stare but that's ok. Their stares will be nothing compared to those you'll get every time you step out of your home with your twins.
2) Invest in a recliner if you don't already own one. Not only will you need it when you get too big to lay in bed comfortably, it will come in handy during those all night feedings.
3) Speaking of feedings, get used to eating cold food. Once the twins are here, you will seldom get a chance to eat a hot meal. When they are babies, they will start crying the minute you sit down to have a meal. Once they start talking, they will call your name the second you sit down. Most of the time the voice will be coming from the bathroom.
When you decide to eat out with the kids, ask for a box to pack your dinner before you start eating. By the time you are done cutting their dinner, telling them to sit down, making sure they don't pour water in their sibling's food, your food will be cold and they will be ready to go home.
4) Invest in earplugs. I know, sounds harsh unless you've heard the cries of two babies at 2 AM.
5) Throw out all the preconceived notions you had about how you'll deal with twins. You may think think you'll put them on a schedule and they will be sleeping through the night by the time they are 3 months old. It may work, it may not. Not only did my twins decide they didn't like the same schedule, they didn't start sleeping through the night until they turned one. And yes, we tried everything. Better to go in without any expectations.
6) Every time someone says "oh, how I wished I had had twins", ask them for a donation and their phone number. By the time your kids are of school age, you will have a very nice trust fund set for the kids, and you'll have tons of babysitters.
7) Speaking of babysitters, once you find one that actually enjoys babysitting twins, pay her well so she'll keep coming back. You'll be surprised how many will hesitate at the thought of watching more than one child of the same age.
8) Twins are individuals and they rejoice in reminding you of that fact. They will like different foods, different toys, even different sides of the car. And once they are old enough to undress, they will take off the clothes you picked out for them, and find something else to wear. This usually happens as you are trying to walk out the door.
9) When it comes to twins, silence is NOT golden. It just means they are probably in the bathroom, flushing everything they can down the toilet.
10) Enjoy every second with your twins. You will be amazed at how strong their bond is, how connected they are, and how much they love one another. It doesn't matter if they are identical or fraternal, your twins will have that special bond forever.
There will be times you'll be so exhausted, all you can do is cry. There will be times when you'll go outside, sit in the car, and enjoy a few seconds of silence. Many times you'll wonder how you will ever make it until they are old enough to go to college.
But there will also be lots of laughter. Kisses and hugs, and I love you's that will melt your heart. Enjoy the moments when you are all snuggled up in bed watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. Rejoice in knowing they chose you to be their parent. I know it won't be easy at first but the best things in life often aren't easy.
People often makes comments to me about how wonderful it is to have twins and how they wish they had twins. I'm sure they are trying to be nice, but in all honesty, no one knows what is like to parent twins unless you have them. I don't care if your kids are close in age, or if you have 19 of them, twins will throw a wrench into your parenting skills.
We weren't first time parents when we learned twins were on the way. We have a daughter who is wonderful in every possible way. She is funny, sweet, beautiful, outgoing, a dream come true. We wanted to give her a sibling, and ended up giving her two. We figured our experience as parents would pay off. How hard could it be? We had been through the midnight feedings, diaper changing, reflux, etc.
I wish someone had given me a tutorial before the twins arrive. Better yet, I wish they had given it to me the minute I walked out of the doctor's office, eight weeks into the pregnancy and with the news of double trouble on the way.
So this is my attempt at preparing future mothers (and fathers) of twins. My tutorial on how to parent twins.
1) The minute you find out you are expecting twins, run out of the doctor's office screaming. People will stare but that's ok. Their stares will be nothing compared to those you'll get every time you step out of your home with your twins.
2) Invest in a recliner if you don't already own one. Not only will you need it when you get too big to lay in bed comfortably, it will come in handy during those all night feedings.
3) Speaking of feedings, get used to eating cold food. Once the twins are here, you will seldom get a chance to eat a hot meal. When they are babies, they will start crying the minute you sit down to have a meal. Once they start talking, they will call your name the second you sit down. Most of the time the voice will be coming from the bathroom.
When you decide to eat out with the kids, ask for a box to pack your dinner before you start eating. By the time you are done cutting their dinner, telling them to sit down, making sure they don't pour water in their sibling's food, your food will be cold and they will be ready to go home.
4) Invest in earplugs. I know, sounds harsh unless you've heard the cries of two babies at 2 AM.
5) Throw out all the preconceived notions you had about how you'll deal with twins. You may think think you'll put them on a schedule and they will be sleeping through the night by the time they are 3 months old. It may work, it may not. Not only did my twins decide they didn't like the same schedule, they didn't start sleeping through the night until they turned one. And yes, we tried everything. Better to go in without any expectations.
6) Every time someone says "oh, how I wished I had had twins", ask them for a donation and their phone number. By the time your kids are of school age, you will have a very nice trust fund set for the kids, and you'll have tons of babysitters.
7) Speaking of babysitters, once you find one that actually enjoys babysitting twins, pay her well so she'll keep coming back. You'll be surprised how many will hesitate at the thought of watching more than one child of the same age.
8) Twins are individuals and they rejoice in reminding you of that fact. They will like different foods, different toys, even different sides of the car. And once they are old enough to undress, they will take off the clothes you picked out for them, and find something else to wear. This usually happens as you are trying to walk out the door.
9) When it comes to twins, silence is NOT golden. It just means they are probably in the bathroom, flushing everything they can down the toilet.
10) Enjoy every second with your twins. You will be amazed at how strong their bond is, how connected they are, and how much they love one another. It doesn't matter if they are identical or fraternal, your twins will have that special bond forever.
There will be times you'll be so exhausted, all you can do is cry. There will be times when you'll go outside, sit in the car, and enjoy a few seconds of silence. Many times you'll wonder how you will ever make it until they are old enough to go to college.
But there will also be lots of laughter. Kisses and hugs, and I love you's that will melt your heart. Enjoy the moments when you are all snuggled up in bed watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. Rejoice in knowing they chose you to be their parent. I know it won't be easy at first but the best things in life often aren't easy.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Slave to technology
I'm not sure how this came to my mind. I was driving home from dropping the kids off at school and realized I'm probably addicted to my cell phone, to some degree. I don't sit around and text message people all day long. I don't go to lunch with friends, only to pull out the phone and check my Facebook every so often. I can still enjoy normal human contact without having my cell phone interfere with my life.
Still, I remember the simpler times when I could avoid phone calls simply because I was not home. Now, I can't even go to church without being contacted by people!
We have given people access to our lives 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, simply by getting a cell phone. And it gets worse if you happen to have a smart phone, because not only can they text you, they can also send you emails and Facebook messages, and expect you to answer them.
Don't get me wrong. I love my iPhone and it has made my life easier. I can keep my grocery list, my calendar, and my checkbook balance, all in one handy place.
But sometimes, I wish I could use the "sorry, I wasn't home when you called" excuse.
Are you addicted to your phone? Tivo? Computer?
Still, I remember the simpler times when I could avoid phone calls simply because I was not home. Now, I can't even go to church without being contacted by people!
We have given people access to our lives 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, simply by getting a cell phone. And it gets worse if you happen to have a smart phone, because not only can they text you, they can also send you emails and Facebook messages, and expect you to answer them.
Don't get me wrong. I love my iPhone and it has made my life easier. I can keep my grocery list, my calendar, and my checkbook balance, all in one handy place.
But sometimes, I wish I could use the "sorry, I wasn't home when you called" excuse.
Are you addicted to your phone? Tivo? Computer?
Friday, February 26, 2010
Welcome 2010!
Yes I know. 2010 started a while back but this is my very first blog of 2010. So there.
Kudos to Carrie for getting me to update this thing. I've been lazy and needed a kick in the you-know-what to get back to blogging. Now if she can just get me to exercise...
The first two months of this year have passed me by. I wrote a list of resolutions, and so far, I've been keeping most of them. keyword: most. The exercise thing is just not happening. I have zero motivation. I am hoping as the weather gets warmer, I will be more motivated to walk during my lunch hour.
Reading more books is another one of the resolutions. So far I've read 5 books this year. Finally read The Notebook (had already seen the movie). It is a sweet story but I wasn't that impressed with the writing. Maybe it's just me? Or it could be that I read it after I finished To Kill a Mocking Bird. Now that's an awesome book, and if you haven't read it, shame on you!
Also read Wuthering Heights. I wasn't so sure about it but once I started reading it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, even if Heathcliff isn't the most likely "leading man". He was real, and he felt "human" to me.
The other two I read: "Marianela" which is a classic in Spanish literature; and The Age of Innocence (good but not my favorite).
Speaking of books, I have joined a "virtual" book club. Real Simple magazine has a "book club". Readers get to vote on the book and they can opt to read the chosen book, or wait for the next selection. That's my kind of club since I never know what craziness may be going on in my life.
And while we are on the subject of craziness, what the heck happened to my babies? I have a daughter who is growing up way faster than I'm prepared to accept. My sons are little men now, not toddlers anymore. My house is a circus any given night, but I wouldn't trade this circus for anything. Specially since I am the rink master. ha!
As if having my own circus wasn't time consuming, I also volunteered to coach Candace's soccer team. I love it! I have the best players and parents, if I can say so myself.
So that's basically what I've been up to since I last updated this blog. Work, parenting (still looking for the manual that should have come with my kids), coaching, and trying to stay on top of the madness.
Kudos to Carrie for getting me to update this thing. I've been lazy and needed a kick in the you-know-what to get back to blogging. Now if she can just get me to exercise...
The first two months of this year have passed me by. I wrote a list of resolutions, and so far, I've been keeping most of them. keyword: most. The exercise thing is just not happening. I have zero motivation. I am hoping as the weather gets warmer, I will be more motivated to walk during my lunch hour.
Reading more books is another one of the resolutions. So far I've read 5 books this year. Finally read The Notebook (had already seen the movie). It is a sweet story but I wasn't that impressed with the writing. Maybe it's just me? Or it could be that I read it after I finished To Kill a Mocking Bird. Now that's an awesome book, and if you haven't read it, shame on you!
Also read Wuthering Heights. I wasn't so sure about it but once I started reading it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, even if Heathcliff isn't the most likely "leading man". He was real, and he felt "human" to me.
The other two I read: "Marianela" which is a classic in Spanish literature; and The Age of Innocence (good but not my favorite).
Speaking of books, I have joined a "virtual" book club. Real Simple magazine has a "book club". Readers get to vote on the book and they can opt to read the chosen book, or wait for the next selection. That's my kind of club since I never know what craziness may be going on in my life.
And while we are on the subject of craziness, what the heck happened to my babies? I have a daughter who is growing up way faster than I'm prepared to accept. My sons are little men now, not toddlers anymore. My house is a circus any given night, but I wouldn't trade this circus for anything. Specially since I am the rink master. ha!
As if having my own circus wasn't time consuming, I also volunteered to coach Candace's soccer team. I love it! I have the best players and parents, if I can say so myself.
So that's basically what I've been up to since I last updated this blog. Work, parenting (still looking for the manual that should have come with my kids), coaching, and trying to stay on top of the madness.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Memories
It's funny how some smells can bring back a flood of memories.
Coffee and gardenias take me back to my childhood. I was fortunate to spend a lot of time with my grandparents. I didn't know then how much I would cherish the memories I made there.
Every morning for more than 60 years, my Grandfather started his mornings the same way. He would grind the coffee beans he had harvested in his backyard, and make coffee. The smell of freshly brewed coffee takes me back to those beautiful mornings. Before he had any coffee, he would bring Abuela a cup of coffee to bed. Every morning for more than 60 years.
He would go on about his morning routine, feed the chickens, and start his day; while Abuela made breakfast. She would let me help her and made me feel so special. She put so much love into cooking, maybe that's why her food was always so good. That's where I get my love for cooking.
After breakfast, Abuela and I would go out and water her plants. She has a beautiful garden, even now. She would tell me all about all her plants, where she got them from, how long she's had them, when they bloom. I loved the smell of the gardenias and even now, they remind me of Abuela.
It's funny how as we get older, some memories come back more often. For me, the happy memories of my times in el Cope, with my grandparents, are one of my most treasured times.
Coffee and gardenias take me back to my childhood. I was fortunate to spend a lot of time with my grandparents. I didn't know then how much I would cherish the memories I made there.
Every morning for more than 60 years, my Grandfather started his mornings the same way. He would grind the coffee beans he had harvested in his backyard, and make coffee. The smell of freshly brewed coffee takes me back to those beautiful mornings. Before he had any coffee, he would bring Abuela a cup of coffee to bed. Every morning for more than 60 years.
He would go on about his morning routine, feed the chickens, and start his day; while Abuela made breakfast. She would let me help her and made me feel so special. She put so much love into cooking, maybe that's why her food was always so good. That's where I get my love for cooking.
After breakfast, Abuela and I would go out and water her plants. She has a beautiful garden, even now. She would tell me all about all her plants, where she got them from, how long she's had them, when they bloom. I loved the smell of the gardenias and even now, they remind me of Abuela.
It's funny how as we get older, some memories come back more often. For me, the happy memories of my times in el Cope, with my grandparents, are one of my most treasured times.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Juggling
I very often complain there aren't enough hours in the day to get things done. There are always loads of laundry left undone, shopping lists not quite complete, chores, chores and more chores that I can't never get to.
I used to think it was simply the way things were. After all, I work full time outside my home, I have three kids, and well, taking care of everyone and everything takes time. Now I think I'm just one of those people who actually enjoy the "busyness" of life. Apparently I actually "enjoy" running around like a nut, trying to figure out how to tend to everyone, and everything, and making sure everyone is taking care of.
My epiphany came shortly after I signed up to coach my daughter's soccer team. Yes, you read that right. Here I was, complaining that I have no time to get it all done, and still, I sign up for yet one more thing. Why do I keep doing this to myself?
Don't get me wrong. I don't regret volunteering to coach. Soccer is my favorite sport, my daughter loves to play, and well, I want to do my part so our league continues to grow and she has a chance to develop her skills.
I already juggle many balls in one day. My day starts early in the morning, when I start my "lunch assembly line" and get everyone's lunch boxes ready for the day. Then it's time to get clothes laid out for everyone, get everyone up, get breakfast on the table; and finally get ready for work. I spent the next 8 hrs working, and from time to time, thinking of what I can cook for dinner that night. As soon as I get home, it's time to get dinner going, to hear how everyone's day went (usually all of them speaking at once); check homework, etc, etc. You get the idea.
Did I mention I also teach Sunday school?
I know, it sounds like I'm complaining, doesn't it? In reality, I am happy having so many balls up in the air. I love all the roles I have on a daily basis. And even though things can get crazy (and believe me, they do); truth is, I want to be as involved as possible in my children's life.
I may not be home every day when they come home from school, but they are lucky enough to have their father there instead. And I'm lucky to have a husband who shares the load with me.
I hope one day they'll remember their soccer years, when mom was their coach and how much fun they had. How mom participated in all their church activities, and even helped out. How, even though mom worked in an office and not at home; they spent quality time with her when she was home.
So you see, it is a blessing to be able to do so much for my kids; not a burden. Even when I'm exhausted and wondering where I'll get the strength to get up the next morning; all it takes is one look into their eyes to see it is all worth it.
I used to think it was simply the way things were. After all, I work full time outside my home, I have three kids, and well, taking care of everyone and everything takes time. Now I think I'm just one of those people who actually enjoy the "busyness" of life. Apparently I actually "enjoy" running around like a nut, trying to figure out how to tend to everyone, and everything, and making sure everyone is taking care of.
My epiphany came shortly after I signed up to coach my daughter's soccer team. Yes, you read that right. Here I was, complaining that I have no time to get it all done, and still, I sign up for yet one more thing. Why do I keep doing this to myself?
Don't get me wrong. I don't regret volunteering to coach. Soccer is my favorite sport, my daughter loves to play, and well, I want to do my part so our league continues to grow and she has a chance to develop her skills.
I already juggle many balls in one day. My day starts early in the morning, when I start my "lunch assembly line" and get everyone's lunch boxes ready for the day. Then it's time to get clothes laid out for everyone, get everyone up, get breakfast on the table; and finally get ready for work. I spent the next 8 hrs working, and from time to time, thinking of what I can cook for dinner that night. As soon as I get home, it's time to get dinner going, to hear how everyone's day went (usually all of them speaking at once); check homework, etc, etc. You get the idea.
Did I mention I also teach Sunday school?
I know, it sounds like I'm complaining, doesn't it? In reality, I am happy having so many balls up in the air. I love all the roles I have on a daily basis. And even though things can get crazy (and believe me, they do); truth is, I want to be as involved as possible in my children's life.
I may not be home every day when they come home from school, but they are lucky enough to have their father there instead. And I'm lucky to have a husband who shares the load with me.
I hope one day they'll remember their soccer years, when mom was their coach and how much fun they had. How mom participated in all their church activities, and even helped out. How, even though mom worked in an office and not at home; they spent quality time with her when she was home.
So you see, it is a blessing to be able to do so much for my kids; not a burden. Even when I'm exhausted and wondering where I'll get the strength to get up the next morning; all it takes is one look into their eyes to see it is all worth it.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Transitions
A new school year has begun, and many changes have come with it.
My daughter is now in second grade. It's hard to believe how much she has grown, how much she has learned, and how fast time has gone by. Not too long ago, she was just a toddler, and school seemed so far away. She has mature so much, she has a radiant personality, and is very secured in herself. I'm proud of her.
My boys are now starting school, in 3 yr old kindergarten. It wasn't that long ago I brought this tiny kids home, and now they are little men. They are out to discover the world, and conquer it. They are a team, definitely two peas in a pod, and I enjoy watching them interact with each other. They are each other's ying yang.
My niece Stephanie has graduated high school and it's getting ready to start her freshman year at MS State. I was there the day she was born, it's hard to believe she is now a young woman.
New beginnings are always hard because they mark the end of an era. But it is also nice to see how far I've grown as a person since the days I became an aunt, and later a mother.
My daughter is now in second grade. It's hard to believe how much she has grown, how much she has learned, and how fast time has gone by. Not too long ago, she was just a toddler, and school seemed so far away. She has mature so much, she has a radiant personality, and is very secured in herself. I'm proud of her.
My boys are now starting school, in 3 yr old kindergarten. It wasn't that long ago I brought this tiny kids home, and now they are little men. They are out to discover the world, and conquer it. They are a team, definitely two peas in a pod, and I enjoy watching them interact with each other. They are each other's ying yang.
My niece Stephanie has graduated high school and it's getting ready to start her freshman year at MS State. I was there the day she was born, it's hard to believe she is now a young woman.
New beginnings are always hard because they mark the end of an era. But it is also nice to see how far I've grown as a person since the days I became an aunt, and later a mother.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Historic Photos of Mississippi- A book review
One would think there is not much to say about a book filled with pictures. At first glance, there are just pictures bound together, with captions that detail where and when the photos were taken.
But whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words was right. That's the case with this book "Historic Photos of Mississippi"
I am relatively new to the state and to its history, even though I've spent the last 18 years here. There is so much to this place, to its history, that I've yet to uncover, and for the first time I've gotten a glance of the way things used to be before I arrived here.
The book is filled with photographs and its divided in four sections: "The Civil War and Survival", "The Joy of the Golden Age", "Depression Years and Singing the Blues", "War in Europe and Struggles at Home". The captions for the photos are written by Anne B. McKee.
Each section tells part of the story of the Magnolia State in pictures. You will not find lengthy discussions about each pictures but in reality they are not needed. Each photo in this book speaks for itself.
In the Civil War section you will find pictures of the battlefields, of towns and homes destroyed during the war, pictures from the period following the war that show the growth in cities like Jackson and Meridian; you may even recognize some of these buildings as they still stand today.
The following section shows the Mississippi of the early 1900, when the state was prospering. You will find photos of historical buildings like the Old Capitol Museum, a class photo from Sykes Chapel School (an early African American school), of people at work, and steam wheelers in the Mississippi river.
The flood of 1927 in the Mississippi Delta, the times of the Great Depression, the Civil Right era are all documented in this book.
I wish the book had included pictures from the last 3 decades of the 20th century, as the last pictures included were from the dawn of the 1970s.
Still it is a good book. Perfect for someone who loves the state of Mississippi, and wants to reminiscence about the good ol' days.
But whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words was right. That's the case with this book "Historic Photos of Mississippi"
I am relatively new to the state and to its history, even though I've spent the last 18 years here. There is so much to this place, to its history, that I've yet to uncover, and for the first time I've gotten a glance of the way things used to be before I arrived here.
The book is filled with photographs and its divided in four sections: "The Civil War and Survival", "The Joy of the Golden Age", "Depression Years and Singing the Blues", "War in Europe and Struggles at Home". The captions for the photos are written by Anne B. McKee.
Each section tells part of the story of the Magnolia State in pictures. You will not find lengthy discussions about each pictures but in reality they are not needed. Each photo in this book speaks for itself.
In the Civil War section you will find pictures of the battlefields, of towns and homes destroyed during the war, pictures from the period following the war that show the growth in cities like Jackson and Meridian; you may even recognize some of these buildings as they still stand today.
The following section shows the Mississippi of the early 1900, when the state was prospering. You will find photos of historical buildings like the Old Capitol Museum, a class photo from Sykes Chapel School (an early African American school), of people at work, and steam wheelers in the Mississippi river.
The flood of 1927 in the Mississippi Delta, the times of the Great Depression, the Civil Right era are all documented in this book.
I wish the book had included pictures from the last 3 decades of the 20th century, as the last pictures included were from the dawn of the 1970s.
Still it is a good book. Perfect for someone who loves the state of Mississippi, and wants to reminiscence about the good ol' days.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Early Saturday morning
A few weeks ago, I decided I would volunteer for the Renaissance Half Marathon. I wasn't sure what job I wanted to do, but I figured I'd come and support my sister and her husband as they ran this race. I managed to recruit one of my sisters, my niece, her boyfriend, and a friend to come and be part of the water crew at Mile 8.
Saturday came very early for us, since we had to report to our stations by 5:15 and we live 1 hr away from the race. As I was getting ready that morning, I kept wondering if I had lost my mind. Why on earth would anyone get up so early to go and hand out water to people who are even crazier than me?
We arrived at our station in the Bridgewater subdivision. Wow. Those houses are enormous, big enough to fit the entire Duggar family! We picked up our jaws from the ground, and started to set up. Coffee hadn't started working yet, some people were trying to be the "boss" and well, no one was getting paid so we didn't exactly appreciate the attitude. Finally we started to see runners coming up.
Our station was Mile 8 of 13.1. The front of the pack fit the stereotypical picture of a runner: fit, faster than a speeding bullet, and "in the zone". Most didn't want any water, others wanted us to throw water at them to cool them off. They went by us rather quickly, we were all in awe to see them disappear as quickly as they approach our table, like a bunch of gazelles. Some of them you could hardly hear breathing.
Then the middle of the pack started to show up, the real people, people like you and me who enjoy running and don't care if they ever win a medal. They are just loving it.
Some of them thanked us for being there, for cheering them on, for getting up so early to help out. I saw several people I knew, some from work, others whom I had trained with for the Chicago marathon.
The back of the pack were mostly walkers, but boy, can they walk! They smiled, they were just happy to be there, and didn't seem bothered by the fact they still had 5 miles to go before they could claim their medals. They were happy to be doing it.
I have to say the volunteers at our station were awesome. We never discussed it but when the first runners showed up, we started to cheer for them, as they came up the hill to our water stop. And we didn't stop until the very last person passed our water stop. We cheered them on in unison, which was very cool, because up until that morning, most of us had never met.
As I was there, watching, serving, I realized why I got up so early that day: I have been in their shoes. I know how important it is to hear a stranger call your name, cheer you on, tell you they believe you can do it. Saturday, I was one of those strangers for a lot of people. By the time they came to our stop, they had gone 8 miles and still had 5 more to go. That's where their minds would start to take over their bodies, and they'll have to pull the strength out of somewhere to finish.
For some, this was their first 13.1 miles. They had never done it before, and probably weren't sure if they could finish it. I wanted to offer some support, to let them know that finishing 8 miles was a big accomplishment and they could complete the rest.
A lady told us we were the best water stop so far, because we were cheering everyone on. She thanked us for that. That felt pretty good, I have to admit.
When we finished, we went back to the finish line to find my sister and her husband. Along the way, we passed some of the runners in their last mile towards their goal. One of them said "Oh, there you are again" and smiled. We cheered them on as we passed them and told them the finish line was close.
It was a great experience. Having been in the shoes of a runner before, I know how good it feels to have complete strangers line up the streets and cheer you on as you battle to conquer your goal. You may think it's not important if you are there or not, but runners notice the expectators and the volunteers, and they are thankful for you.
So next time there is race in town, like the MS Blues Marathon, consider coming out and cheering. You may be surprised how good it feels to know you made someone's day.
Saturday came very early for us, since we had to report to our stations by 5:15 and we live 1 hr away from the race. As I was getting ready that morning, I kept wondering if I had lost my mind. Why on earth would anyone get up so early to go and hand out water to people who are even crazier than me?
We arrived at our station in the Bridgewater subdivision. Wow. Those houses are enormous, big enough to fit the entire Duggar family! We picked up our jaws from the ground, and started to set up. Coffee hadn't started working yet, some people were trying to be the "boss" and well, no one was getting paid so we didn't exactly appreciate the attitude. Finally we started to see runners coming up.
Our station was Mile 8 of 13.1. The front of the pack fit the stereotypical picture of a runner: fit, faster than a speeding bullet, and "in the zone". Most didn't want any water, others wanted us to throw water at them to cool them off. They went by us rather quickly, we were all in awe to see them disappear as quickly as they approach our table, like a bunch of gazelles. Some of them you could hardly hear breathing.
Then the middle of the pack started to show up, the real people, people like you and me who enjoy running and don't care if they ever win a medal. They are just loving it.
Some of them thanked us for being there, for cheering them on, for getting up so early to help out. I saw several people I knew, some from work, others whom I had trained with for the Chicago marathon.
The back of the pack were mostly walkers, but boy, can they walk! They smiled, they were just happy to be there, and didn't seem bothered by the fact they still had 5 miles to go before they could claim their medals. They were happy to be doing it.
I have to say the volunteers at our station were awesome. We never discussed it but when the first runners showed up, we started to cheer for them, as they came up the hill to our water stop. And we didn't stop until the very last person passed our water stop. We cheered them on in unison, which was very cool, because up until that morning, most of us had never met.
As I was there, watching, serving, I realized why I got up so early that day: I have been in their shoes. I know how important it is to hear a stranger call your name, cheer you on, tell you they believe you can do it. Saturday, I was one of those strangers for a lot of people. By the time they came to our stop, they had gone 8 miles and still had 5 more to go. That's where their minds would start to take over their bodies, and they'll have to pull the strength out of somewhere to finish.
For some, this was their first 13.1 miles. They had never done it before, and probably weren't sure if they could finish it. I wanted to offer some support, to let them know that finishing 8 miles was a big accomplishment and they could complete the rest.
A lady told us we were the best water stop so far, because we were cheering everyone on. She thanked us for that. That felt pretty good, I have to admit.
When we finished, we went back to the finish line to find my sister and her husband. Along the way, we passed some of the runners in their last mile towards their goal. One of them said "Oh, there you are again" and smiled. We cheered them on as we passed them and told them the finish line was close.
It was a great experience. Having been in the shoes of a runner before, I know how good it feels to have complete strangers line up the streets and cheer you on as you battle to conquer your goal. You may think it's not important if you are there or not, but runners notice the expectators and the volunteers, and they are thankful for you.
So next time there is race in town, like the MS Blues Marathon, consider coming out and cheering. You may be surprised how good it feels to know you made someone's day.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Discovering Navarre Beach
Our annual family vacation this year was to a destination that most people haven't really heard of: Navarre Beach, Florida.
The first time I heard of it was in 2004 in a Southern Living Magazine. It talked about how beautiful and quiet it was, and how appropriate it was for families with kids. I filed it somewhere in my brain for future use.
You see, back in 2004, I had an irrational fear of the ocean. I'm not sure when or how it started but the first time I went to the beach I realized I was terrified of it. The sound of the waves, the feel of the sand slipping away under my feet, I simply could not handle it.
It wasn't until last year that I decided to face my fear. My children are growing up, and they had never seen the ocean. I wanted them to see it for the first time during our vacation to my homeland, Panama.
It was there, in front of the Pacific Ocean, and facing 12 ft waves that I faced my fear and conquered it. I'm not even sure how it happened. I just stood there, took a deep breath, and allowed the sounds to enter my soul, and I kept telling myself everything was fine. Before I knew it, a sense of calm came over me and I was able to enjoy my time there.
So I began to plan our first official "beach vacation" earlier this year. My criteria for selecting a beach was simple: it had to be within a reasonable driving distance, the water had to be beautiful, and the lodging options affordable. I asked beach lovers about it, most of them recommended places like Destin, Panama City Beach (which was on top of my list simply because it reminds me of my beloved Panama), Gulf Shores.
While I was doing my search, I remembered that article in Southern Living, and started researching Navarre Beach. Before long we had picked it as our destination.
I started to look for places to stay that were affordable, and not on a high rise building. I have 2 children who believe they can fly, so I wanted to make sure they weren't going to pull a stunt while on vacation.
We were fortunate enough to come across this townhouse . The price was reasonable, the location was great, so we made the deal, put down a deposit and prepared for our vacation.
We arrived at Navarre Beach on May 30, in the late afternoon. It didn't take very long for us to realize we had picked the right place and the right house. The beach was gorgeous, the water had a blue-green hue to it, and the sand was so white. The kids were in awe, and so were we. The house was more than we had expected, had more amenities than we could have ever imagined, including bicycles for us to ride around the Santa Rosa Island, beach chairs, toys for the kids, and even a cart to help us carry our stuff to the beach. The place is beautifully decorated (no tacky stuff there), and so comfortable. We fell in love with this place. The best part (as if being on Navarre Beach wasn't enough), the master bedroom had an awesome view of the Gulf.
We spent a week doing absolutely nothing more than relaxing. The kids enjoyed it beyond belief and so did I. It was exactly the place I was searching for, there were mostly families at the beach, it wasn't crowded, and it was beautiful. We came back ready to plan our next trip to Navarre Beach.
I know most people go to some of the other more popular beaches where there is tons to do, and the crowds are big. But if you are looking for a place to relax, with an unbelievably beautiful beach, Navarre Beach may be for you. ;-)
The first time I heard of it was in 2004 in a Southern Living Magazine. It talked about how beautiful and quiet it was, and how appropriate it was for families with kids. I filed it somewhere in my brain for future use.
You see, back in 2004, I had an irrational fear of the ocean. I'm not sure when or how it started but the first time I went to the beach I realized I was terrified of it. The sound of the waves, the feel of the sand slipping away under my feet, I simply could not handle it.
It wasn't until last year that I decided to face my fear. My children are growing up, and they had never seen the ocean. I wanted them to see it for the first time during our vacation to my homeland, Panama.
It was there, in front of the Pacific Ocean, and facing 12 ft waves that I faced my fear and conquered it. I'm not even sure how it happened. I just stood there, took a deep breath, and allowed the sounds to enter my soul, and I kept telling myself everything was fine. Before I knew it, a sense of calm came over me and I was able to enjoy my time there.
So I began to plan our first official "beach vacation" earlier this year. My criteria for selecting a beach was simple: it had to be within a reasonable driving distance, the water had to be beautiful, and the lodging options affordable. I asked beach lovers about it, most of them recommended places like Destin, Panama City Beach (which was on top of my list simply because it reminds me of my beloved Panama), Gulf Shores.
While I was doing my search, I remembered that article in Southern Living, and started researching Navarre Beach. Before long we had picked it as our destination.
I started to look for places to stay that were affordable, and not on a high rise building. I have 2 children who believe they can fly, so I wanted to make sure they weren't going to pull a stunt while on vacation.
We were fortunate enough to come across this townhouse . The price was reasonable, the location was great, so we made the deal, put down a deposit and prepared for our vacation.
We arrived at Navarre Beach on May 30, in the late afternoon. It didn't take very long for us to realize we had picked the right place and the right house. The beach was gorgeous, the water had a blue-green hue to it, and the sand was so white. The kids were in awe, and so were we. The house was more than we had expected, had more amenities than we could have ever imagined, including bicycles for us to ride around the Santa Rosa Island, beach chairs, toys for the kids, and even a cart to help us carry our stuff to the beach. The place is beautifully decorated (no tacky stuff there), and so comfortable. We fell in love with this place. The best part (as if being on Navarre Beach wasn't enough), the master bedroom had an awesome view of the Gulf.
We spent a week doing absolutely nothing more than relaxing. The kids enjoyed it beyond belief and so did I. It was exactly the place I was searching for, there were mostly families at the beach, it wasn't crowded, and it was beautiful. We came back ready to plan our next trip to Navarre Beach.
I know most people go to some of the other more popular beaches where there is tons to do, and the crowds are big. But if you are looking for a place to relax, with an unbelievably beautiful beach, Navarre Beach may be for you. ;-)
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Nine years
Today, my husband and I are celebrating nine years of marriage. Time has flown by, if it wasn't for the fact our kids are getting older, I wouldn't know it has been this long since we said I do.
We met at the least likely of places, at least I think so. I was working out and then he walked in. Our eyes met for a brief moment and that voice in my head simply said "this man is going to change your life".
And so he has, and only for the better.
I knew I was going to marry him a month after we started dating. He had asked if he could join me at church that morning, and as I was praying next to him, I just knew. A year and half later we were husband and wife.
The last nine years have brought lots of wonderful times, and its share of trying times.
We have brought into this world 3 amazing people who fill our days with laughter, joy, tantrums, and their share of messes.
We have faced our kids' illnesses, emergencies, and happy birthdays, and we have learned together how to be the best parents we can be.
He is my best friend. He knows me like no one does, and loves me in spite of my flaws. He knows when to give me room to unwind, when I need a hug, and when I just want to cuddle.
We are each other's ying yang, I suppose. I'm more reserved, more private, an introvert, and he has never met a stranger. We are different in a lot of ways, but we are one in the things that really matter. I am a better person because I've spent the last nine years of my life with him.
He makes me laugh like no one can, he makes me feel pretty even when I'm walking around in pajamas and my hair is a mess; he knows what makes me tick, what angers me, and what makes me happy. There is no one I rather spend my life with.
Thank you for being my best friend, my companion, my lover, the father of my children, my only one.
I love you.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
To my niece
1991. There are a lot of things I don't remember about that year. I barely remember the people who were in my classes in high school, or what fashion styles were "in". I don't even remember my birthday that year.
But there is day I have not forgotten, even after all these years: March 10, the day I became an aunt.
She came into the world on a beautiful spring day. It was a Sunday. As I heard the news of her arrival, I looked out the window and saw the bluest sky. I wanted to remember that day, so one day I could tell her what a beautiful day it was the day she was born.
She was a joy to be around from the start, and I was lucky enough to live with my sister during the first months of her life. I helped take care of her, and enjoyed every minute I spent with her.
The years have passed, and that sweet girl has now become a young woman. She is everything one could have dreamed, she is intelligent, beautiful, kind, humble, giving, loving; the list could go on.
I've had the privilege to watch her grow up and overcome obstacles along the way, and become the person she is today.
In a week, she will be graduating high school. It seems like only yesterday I saw her for the first time, and now she is getting ready to begin the next phase of her life. There are so many things I want to tell her but simply can't find the right words.
I want her to know how very proud I am of her, of the person she has become, and how much I admire her. There have been hurdles along her path that many people could have used as excuses. Instead, she has risen above them, set her goals high, and achieved them.
I want her to know how proud I was the night it was announced she had the highest GPA of her class, how every time I think of the little girl she was, and how far she has come, the tears fill up my eyes. Of how thankful I am to have her in my life, to have her setting a good example for my own children, and how big are the shoes she has left for them to fill.
I want to tell her how much I love her, but even that doesn't seem enough to express how I feel.
I want her to know how thankful I am for the bond we have; that she can always come to me no matter how much distance separate us, or how long it has been since we last talked.
I want to tell her the rest of her life is just around the corner. That the years she spends in college will help her become the adult she is destined to be.
I want her to know that there will be obstacles along the way, some will seem insurmountable, but most of them seldom are.
I want to remind her to believe in herself and in the power of her dreams. I want her to know the measure of success is not in material possessions, but rather in the happiness you feel from having lived your life to the fullest.
I want her to know every day will bring a lesson; and it's up to her to learn from it.
That life should be lived without regrets, that there is a lesson in every moment, and that she should cherish all the good ones because they are the ones that will carry you through the tough times.
I want to tell her how much I'm going to miss her, how incredibly proud I am of her, and how much she means to me.
Thank you Stephanie for the gift you are to me.
But there is day I have not forgotten, even after all these years: March 10, the day I became an aunt.
She came into the world on a beautiful spring day. It was a Sunday. As I heard the news of her arrival, I looked out the window and saw the bluest sky. I wanted to remember that day, so one day I could tell her what a beautiful day it was the day she was born.
She was a joy to be around from the start, and I was lucky enough to live with my sister during the first months of her life. I helped take care of her, and enjoyed every minute I spent with her.
The years have passed, and that sweet girl has now become a young woman. She is everything one could have dreamed, she is intelligent, beautiful, kind, humble, giving, loving; the list could go on.
I've had the privilege to watch her grow up and overcome obstacles along the way, and become the person she is today.
In a week, she will be graduating high school. It seems like only yesterday I saw her for the first time, and now she is getting ready to begin the next phase of her life. There are so many things I want to tell her but simply can't find the right words.
I want her to know how very proud I am of her, of the person she has become, and how much I admire her. There have been hurdles along her path that many people could have used as excuses. Instead, she has risen above them, set her goals high, and achieved them.
I want her to know how proud I was the night it was announced she had the highest GPA of her class, how every time I think of the little girl she was, and how far she has come, the tears fill up my eyes. Of how thankful I am to have her in my life, to have her setting a good example for my own children, and how big are the shoes she has left for them to fill.
I want to tell her how much I love her, but even that doesn't seem enough to express how I feel.
I want her to know how thankful I am for the bond we have; that she can always come to me no matter how much distance separate us, or how long it has been since we last talked.
I want to tell her the rest of her life is just around the corner. That the years she spends in college will help her become the adult she is destined to be.
I want her to know that there will be obstacles along the way, some will seem insurmountable, but most of them seldom are.
I want to remind her to believe in herself and in the power of her dreams. I want her to know the measure of success is not in material possessions, but rather in the happiness you feel from having lived your life to the fullest.
I want her to know every day will bring a lesson; and it's up to her to learn from it.
That life should be lived without regrets, that there is a lesson in every moment, and that she should cherish all the good ones because they are the ones that will carry you through the tough times.
I want to tell her how much I'm going to miss her, how incredibly proud I am of her, and how much she means to me.
Thank you Stephanie for the gift you are to me.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The sound of music
I'm probably one of the few people who have never attempted to play an instrument. I would have loved to play piano, and I still think before I get older, I'd like to give it a try.
But for now, my daughter is the only musician in our house. She has been taking piano lessons since August of last year. She likes it, and she is good at it. Seh can memorize a piece rather quickly, which really amazes me. Sheet music look like a bunch of squiggly lines to me.
Sunday was her very 1st piano recital. She was nervous and excited, and at one point said she felt like "butterflies were coming out of their pupa inside her belly". I was surprised she actually knew what a pupa was. :)
She was the second one to play at recital, and didn't seem to be nervous at all as she sat on the grand piano on the stage. She began to play Chugga Chugga Choo Choo by Elisabeth Gutierrez.
That's when I lost it and began to cry. Where did the time go? It was just yesterday I brought this tiny child home and became her mom. Now she sits in front of a grand piano, and makes music.
But for now, my daughter is the only musician in our house. She has been taking piano lessons since August of last year. She likes it, and she is good at it. Seh can memorize a piece rather quickly, which really amazes me. Sheet music look like a bunch of squiggly lines to me.
Sunday was her very 1st piano recital. She was nervous and excited, and at one point said she felt like "butterflies were coming out of their pupa inside her belly". I was surprised she actually knew what a pupa was. :)
She was the second one to play at recital, and didn't seem to be nervous at all as she sat on the grand piano on the stage. She began to play Chugga Chugga Choo Choo by Elisabeth Gutierrez.
That's when I lost it and began to cry. Where did the time go? It was just yesterday I brought this tiny child home and became her mom. Now she sits in front of a grand piano, and makes music.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Folding Machine
I hate house chores. I really do. Growing up, my family had a maid until I turned 13. By then, my 2 oldest sisters were gone to college, and my parents decided they didn't need a maid any longer. So my sister Glenda and I became the maids. We did our own laundry (NO washing machine), and kept the house clean (no carpets, we had to sweep and mop).
So I guess that's why I hate doing chores. The one thing I can do without complaining is the dishes. Our dishwasher decided to retire a few months ago, and even though my husband wanted to find a replacement, I talked him out of it. Doing dishes actually relaxes me.
Laundry is my biggest enemy. There is a never ending mountain of dirty clothes to be washed, baskets of laundry to be folded. It is time consuming, and I rather do something else with my time. Even though my laundry experience has come a long way since my teenage years, I still dread doing it. I guess doing the laundry for 5 people doesn't make it any easier.
As I was folding clothes this afternoon, I was thanking whoever invented washing machines and dryers, when it occurred to me, no one has invented a folding machine. Now, I would be willing to pay anything to have a folding machine where I could just throw the clean clothes, and they'd come out neatly folded and just ready to be put into the drawers.
So to any inventors out there, please invent a folding machine. I'm sure there are thousands of us out there who would love to own one.
So I guess that's why I hate doing chores. The one thing I can do without complaining is the dishes. Our dishwasher decided to retire a few months ago, and even though my husband wanted to find a replacement, I talked him out of it. Doing dishes actually relaxes me.
Laundry is my biggest enemy. There is a never ending mountain of dirty clothes to be washed, baskets of laundry to be folded. It is time consuming, and I rather do something else with my time. Even though my laundry experience has come a long way since my teenage years, I still dread doing it. I guess doing the laundry for 5 people doesn't make it any easier.
As I was folding clothes this afternoon, I was thanking whoever invented washing machines and dryers, when it occurred to me, no one has invented a folding machine. Now, I would be willing to pay anything to have a folding machine where I could just throw the clean clothes, and they'd come out neatly folded and just ready to be put into the drawers.
So to any inventors out there, please invent a folding machine. I'm sure there are thousands of us out there who would love to own one.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Wacky happenings
It has been a month since I last posted on this blog. I guess you could say the "blogger block" was more than I could surpass.
I decided to change the layout and title of this blog so I can (hopefully) feel more inspired to blog daily.
You can file this under "strange", "eccentric", or just plain crazy. Take your pick.
Our offices moved to a new, much nicer building last year. A lot of us lost our hard wall offices and ended up in a "workstation", aka: cubicle. Rules were published as to how our workstations should look and what was acceptable to display and what wasn't. Common sense would tell most people that certain things (bikini calendars for example) are better kept at home.
A "new" person moved to our hall recently. She really isn't that new (she has been here for a year already) but we had not seen her in our area before. A few days after her move, one wall of her cubicle was covered with a type of material often used to cover casseroles that normally will be cooked in the oven. Do you get the hint? Aluminum foil.
I later heard through the grapevine the reason this person covered the wall is to prevent radiation from the laser printer on the other side from harming her unborn baby. I personally had never heard of laser printers giving off any type of radiation. I guess that explains why my children glow in the dark. HA!
Anyway, fast forward to a month later, when this person and I crossed paths in the hallway. I noticed her pants had a funny print on them. Not being a fan of prints, I took a closer look, only to realize the prints were stars, clouds, and cows. Yes, cows. These are pajama pants, my friends.
The pants have made an appearance for the past two weeks, just about every day. While I understand pregnancy can be a rather uncomfortable time in a woman's life, I was pregnant twice before, and never came to work in my pajamas. I may have worn flip flops when my feet were too swollen to fit into anything else, but never came to work in clothes I would wear to bed.
Why do I care, you ask? Because we have a dress code. Some of us dress more business like than others, depending on what we do. Sometimes I wear jeans if I'm going to do sampling, other times I wear skirts, heels. Very seldom do I wear suits, unless I have a meeting. I guess you could say we have a very relaxed dress code because we all have very different job functions.
But nowhere in the dress code does it say pajamas are acceptable for anyone, regardless of the job function. Unless yours is "sleeping on the job".
So that has been the highlight around here, everyone wondering how long it will before we get a memo reminding everyone what the appropriate office attire is. Of course, once the memo comes out, the only person who won't read it or abide by it will be the one who needs to do it the most.
I decided to change the layout and title of this blog so I can (hopefully) feel more inspired to blog daily.
You can file this under "strange", "eccentric", or just plain crazy. Take your pick.
Our offices moved to a new, much nicer building last year. A lot of us lost our hard wall offices and ended up in a "workstation", aka: cubicle. Rules were published as to how our workstations should look and what was acceptable to display and what wasn't. Common sense would tell most people that certain things (bikini calendars for example) are better kept at home.
A "new" person moved to our hall recently. She really isn't that new (she has been here for a year already) but we had not seen her in our area before. A few days after her move, one wall of her cubicle was covered with a type of material often used to cover casseroles that normally will be cooked in the oven. Do you get the hint? Aluminum foil.
I later heard through the grapevine the reason this person covered the wall is to prevent radiation from the laser printer on the other side from harming her unborn baby. I personally had never heard of laser printers giving off any type of radiation. I guess that explains why my children glow in the dark. HA!
Anyway, fast forward to a month later, when this person and I crossed paths in the hallway. I noticed her pants had a funny print on them. Not being a fan of prints, I took a closer look, only to realize the prints were stars, clouds, and cows. Yes, cows. These are pajama pants, my friends.
The pants have made an appearance for the past two weeks, just about every day. While I understand pregnancy can be a rather uncomfortable time in a woman's life, I was pregnant twice before, and never came to work in my pajamas. I may have worn flip flops when my feet were too swollen to fit into anything else, but never came to work in clothes I would wear to bed.
Why do I care, you ask? Because we have a dress code. Some of us dress more business like than others, depending on what we do. Sometimes I wear jeans if I'm going to do sampling, other times I wear skirts, heels. Very seldom do I wear suits, unless I have a meeting. I guess you could say we have a very relaxed dress code because we all have very different job functions.
But nowhere in the dress code does it say pajamas are acceptable for anyone, regardless of the job function. Unless yours is "sleeping on the job".
So that has been the highlight around here, everyone wondering how long it will before we get a memo reminding everyone what the appropriate office attire is. Of course, once the memo comes out, the only person who won't read it or abide by it will be the one who needs to do it the most.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Libraries
I took my daughter to the library early Saturday morning. This was my second trip in a very long time. I almost hate to admit it had been years since I had stepped foot in our local library.
I have a million excuses, some reasonable ones like their hours and my work hours don't coincide, I like to keep some of the books I read; others are not so reasonable: I simply have not made the time.
My daughter loves the kid section so she quickly settled in her space at the library and suggested I find something for me "to read" if I felt so inclined.
As I was walking amidst the rows of books, I discovered why I love libraries and how much I had missed them. There is something magical about that place, so much knowledge contained within those pages. As I browsed through the books, I began to wonder the history of each volume found on the shelves. Was it gift? Who donated it? What were they like?
I managed to find a couple of books and a couple of CDs to bring home with me, as did my daughter. We are making plans on going back next Saturday to get more books, and so she can get her very own library card.
I hope her love for books will remain as she gets older. I wonder if she feels the magic of the library the moment we walk in. I hope that magic remains with her forever.
I have a million excuses, some reasonable ones like their hours and my work hours don't coincide, I like to keep some of the books I read; others are not so reasonable: I simply have not made the time.
My daughter loves the kid section so she quickly settled in her space at the library and suggested I find something for me "to read" if I felt so inclined.
As I was walking amidst the rows of books, I discovered why I love libraries and how much I had missed them. There is something magical about that place, so much knowledge contained within those pages. As I browsed through the books, I began to wonder the history of each volume found on the shelves. Was it gift? Who donated it? What were they like?
I managed to find a couple of books and a couple of CDs to bring home with me, as did my daughter. We are making plans on going back next Saturday to get more books, and so she can get her very own library card.
I hope her love for books will remain as she gets older. I wonder if she feels the magic of the library the moment we walk in. I hope that magic remains with her forever.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Family
It's funny how a simple word can be defined in so many different ways.
Out of curiosity, I went to Merriam Webster to see how it was defined. The first definition listed said " a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head".
In reality, there are so many definitions of family, each of us has a different one, taught to us by our parents, and grandparents. There are blended families, single parent families, multiracial families, the list goes on.
So what do you consider family? What's your definition?
In all honesty, I can say I hadn't thought about what family really meant to me until recently. And it wasn't until recently that I realized that it doesn't mean the same to everyone. I guess when it came to "family" I am still a child, I still believe that everyone has a family just like mine.
Even more surprising I have realized that even two people, who have shared the same parents and somewhat similar upbringing (one raised in one country, the other in a different one) can have two completely opposite ideas as to what family is, and what roles family plays in your life.
Family to me has always been sacred. These are the people who know me best, and who are the closest to my heart. They include my parents, my sisters, my cousins, my aunts, grandparents. The bonds we share cannot be shattered, they are the ones I go to when things are going great and when things fall apart.
Inside that family core, there is that bond of sisterhood I share with my sisters. These women are my best friends, the ones I can say anything to, and know they will love me in spite of my mistakes. When I needed someone to stand up for me, they have been there. When I needed someone to share my happy moments, they have been there. When things have gotten rough, they are ready to listen, and offer advice. When I am making a mistake, they are the first ones to point it out, even when they know I will get mad.
There is no other relationship like the one I share with them. There are no other people in this world who could understand what we've shared, the struggles we have seen, the triumphs we have achieved. These women, all in their own ways, have helped me become the person that I am.
Even when we allow weeks to go by without a phone call, even when we get wrapped up in our busy lives and we don't talk often enough, I always know they are just a phone call away. I never hesitate to call if I need them because I know they will always be there. They are part of that most intimate part of life I call "private".
Not everyone feels that way about their family, or their siblings. Funny how I'm just now realizing that.
I believe that my children will probably define family and brotherhood based on what we teach them. They will follow our example and our teachings. I just hope they can always feel they are important parts of each other's lives. I hope they always feel comfortable talking to each other, sharing their most intimate thoughts, without fear. I hope they know that when things get rough, they can count on one another. I hope they can be honest with each other in the good times and the bad.
I hope they remember to love each other unconditionally.
Out of curiosity, I went to Merriam Webster to see how it was defined. The first definition listed said " a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head".
In reality, there are so many definitions of family, each of us has a different one, taught to us by our parents, and grandparents. There are blended families, single parent families, multiracial families, the list goes on.
So what do you consider family? What's your definition?
In all honesty, I can say I hadn't thought about what family really meant to me until recently. And it wasn't until recently that I realized that it doesn't mean the same to everyone. I guess when it came to "family" I am still a child, I still believe that everyone has a family just like mine.
Even more surprising I have realized that even two people, who have shared the same parents and somewhat similar upbringing (one raised in one country, the other in a different one) can have two completely opposite ideas as to what family is, and what roles family plays in your life.
Family to me has always been sacred. These are the people who know me best, and who are the closest to my heart. They include my parents, my sisters, my cousins, my aunts, grandparents. The bonds we share cannot be shattered, they are the ones I go to when things are going great and when things fall apart.
Inside that family core, there is that bond of sisterhood I share with my sisters. These women are my best friends, the ones I can say anything to, and know they will love me in spite of my mistakes. When I needed someone to stand up for me, they have been there. When I needed someone to share my happy moments, they have been there. When things have gotten rough, they are ready to listen, and offer advice. When I am making a mistake, they are the first ones to point it out, even when they know I will get mad.
There is no other relationship like the one I share with them. There are no other people in this world who could understand what we've shared, the struggles we have seen, the triumphs we have achieved. These women, all in their own ways, have helped me become the person that I am.
Even when we allow weeks to go by without a phone call, even when we get wrapped up in our busy lives and we don't talk often enough, I always know they are just a phone call away. I never hesitate to call if I need them because I know they will always be there. They are part of that most intimate part of life I call "private".
Not everyone feels that way about their family, or their siblings. Funny how I'm just now realizing that.
I believe that my children will probably define family and brotherhood based on what we teach them. They will follow our example and our teachings. I just hope they can always feel they are important parts of each other's lives. I hope they always feel comfortable talking to each other, sharing their most intimate thoughts, without fear. I hope they know that when things get rough, they can count on one another. I hope they can be honest with each other in the good times and the bad.
I hope they remember to love each other unconditionally.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The call of the pavement
If you have known me for a while, you probably know I trained for a marathon a couple of years ago. I was not a runner, I just read an article in the newspaper and thought that was something I wanted to add to my list of accomplishments.
Training was rigorous, but fun. I made great friends, and learn a whole lot about myself and about how much I can achieve if I'm willing to push myself beyond my known limits.
I didn't get to finish my first marathon. I didn't quit, the marathon quit on me. It was extremely hot in Chicago and they had to cancel the race after one death and several wounded.
The months after the marathon were very disappointing. I kept trying to tell myself there was nothing I could have done, but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking: what if my pace had been faster?, what if I had lined up towards the front of the pack, would I have been able to finish? Even though my family and friends kept telling me I had accomplished my goal because I had completed a 22 mile run, it just didn't feel the same.
The past two years, I've been trying to talk myself into getting back in the race. I've been trying to convince myself to lace up my running shoes, and go out and run. I just have not found that motivation inside of me that makes me want to run.
The last few weeks, I've started to feel that little flame inside of me. I've begun to remember what it felt like to run, to feel the rush of adrenaline, to just enjoy nature.
I can hear the pavement calling me. I am starting to feel that urge that only runners can understand, that need to get out and push yourself beyond the limit one more time. I've actually read my Runner's World magazine, rather than putting it aside because I felt it's meant for runners, and I'm just not one of them.
I can hear that calling. I am ready to lace up my shoes and just run. There will be another marathon, another chance to prove to myself that I have what it takes to finish 26.2 miles.
But right now, I just want to feel like a runner again.
Training was rigorous, but fun. I made great friends, and learn a whole lot about myself and about how much I can achieve if I'm willing to push myself beyond my known limits.
I didn't get to finish my first marathon. I didn't quit, the marathon quit on me. It was extremely hot in Chicago and they had to cancel the race after one death and several wounded.
The months after the marathon were very disappointing. I kept trying to tell myself there was nothing I could have done, but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking: what if my pace had been faster?, what if I had lined up towards the front of the pack, would I have been able to finish? Even though my family and friends kept telling me I had accomplished my goal because I had completed a 22 mile run, it just didn't feel the same.
The past two years, I've been trying to talk myself into getting back in the race. I've been trying to convince myself to lace up my running shoes, and go out and run. I just have not found that motivation inside of me that makes me want to run.
The last few weeks, I've started to feel that little flame inside of me. I've begun to remember what it felt like to run, to feel the rush of adrenaline, to just enjoy nature.
I can hear the pavement calling me. I am starting to feel that urge that only runners can understand, that need to get out and push yourself beyond the limit one more time. I've actually read my Runner's World magazine, rather than putting it aside because I felt it's meant for runners, and I'm just not one of them.
I can hear that calling. I am ready to lace up my shoes and just run. There will be another marathon, another chance to prove to myself that I have what it takes to finish 26.2 miles.
But right now, I just want to feel like a runner again.
Friday, March 6, 2009
What I hope to teach my kids
There are times when I wonder what my children will remember about me when I'm gone. Will they think I was fun? Will they remember our vacations, and the times we spent watching their favorite movies over and over again?
More importantly, what lessons will they have learned from me? What do I hope will be my legacy in their lives?
I hope to teach my kids to:
Respect life, all life, big and small, rich or poor, human and non-human. Every living thing deserves to be treated with respect.
Respect yourself. Your body is a temple, treat it as one. Respect your ideas, and the person you are and never sell yourself short.
Love life, laugh often, and learn at every opportunity.
No one can put you down unless you let them. Believe in the potential hidden inside of you.
Have faith in something bigger than you. Call him God, or whatever you like, but believe in something bigger than your imagination.
Believe in the power of your dreams. Never give up, no matter how unattainable they seem, never stop believing.
Stay close to your siblings. Even if they drive you crazy, they will defend you against anyone and will stand by you when things are not going well.
Never forget your ancestors and the sacrifices they made. You are able to dream bigger because of the foundation they laid for you. Honor them by going one step further than you think possible.
Travel as much as possible, and respect other cultures. You are not better, embrace the differences.
Check boxes in a form do not describe who you are. Race doesn't matter, neither does gender, religion, or money. Integrity is what counts.
Everyone has a gift. Find yours and share it with the world.
Keep an open mind. Even if you disagree with someone's religion, political views, or philosophy of life, show them respect. It's our differences that make this world interesting.
And when the times come to share your life with someone, and raise kids, make sure love is what guides everything you do.
More importantly, what lessons will they have learned from me? What do I hope will be my legacy in their lives?
I hope to teach my kids to:
Respect life, all life, big and small, rich or poor, human and non-human. Every living thing deserves to be treated with respect.
Respect yourself. Your body is a temple, treat it as one. Respect your ideas, and the person you are and never sell yourself short.
Love life, laugh often, and learn at every opportunity.
No one can put you down unless you let them. Believe in the potential hidden inside of you.
Have faith in something bigger than you. Call him God, or whatever you like, but believe in something bigger than your imagination.
Believe in the power of your dreams. Never give up, no matter how unattainable they seem, never stop believing.
Stay close to your siblings. Even if they drive you crazy, they will defend you against anyone and will stand by you when things are not going well.
Never forget your ancestors and the sacrifices they made. You are able to dream bigger because of the foundation they laid for you. Honor them by going one step further than you think possible.
Travel as much as possible, and respect other cultures. You are not better, embrace the differences.
Check boxes in a form do not describe who you are. Race doesn't matter, neither does gender, religion, or money. Integrity is what counts.
Everyone has a gift. Find yours and share it with the world.
Keep an open mind. Even if you disagree with someone's religion, political views, or philosophy of life, show them respect. It's our differences that make this world interesting.
And when the times come to share your life with someone, and raise kids, make sure love is what guides everything you do.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
It's just hair
As you have probably guessed, today's blog is about hair, and also about lessons learned, and knowing what's truly important.
A couple of weeks ago, I had an appointment with my regular hairdresser to get a haircut. She wasn't there when I showed up, and I ended up making an appointment with a new hairdresser. I figured it would be ok, after all it's just hair and I didn't want anything out of the ordinary.
I arrived at the new place on time for my appointment, only to be met by a stare. I guess I wasn't what they were expecting? Whatever. Sat down and waited. Finally, after 20 minutes waiting, it was my turn. I showed the hairdresser the picture, she got ready to begin, and then it happened. She cut the first piece. As I felt the razor go through my hair, I knew this haircut would be a disaster.
She cut that first piece really short, shorter than I wanted it. There is no way to fix that mishap except to cut the rest of the hair the same length and let it all blend in. I walked out of there with the worst haircut of my life, and mad that I had to pay for it.
If you saw me, you'd probably say it looks fine. Except this is not what I wanted and paid for.
I was feeling pretty blue last night after I washed the bottle of hairspray off my head. I looked in the mirror and realized just how bad it really was, how much styling it would take to make the hair look ok (at least to my standards), and was about ready to ask my husband for the clippers so I could finish the job and join him in the world of baldness.
That's when the voice in my head whispered something to me: Think of the women who are battling cancer, who have lost their hair, who are wishing theirs were as long as yours is right now.
I felt pretty ashamed. There I was, dwelling on my stupid hair, worrying about what people are going to think of it, completely absorbed in my own pity party.
I said a prayer for all those women who are cancer survivors, who are currently fighting cancer, and those who lost their battles. Many of those women are family, friends, coworkers.
I decided to make a donation in the same amount I paid for this haircut to the American Cancer Society, in honor of all women who have lost their hair during their battle with cancer.
I am still mad at the hairdresser for messing it up and still expecting me to pay for it. But I'm no longer upset over the hair I lost. I am thankful because I'm healthy and before long, my hair will grow back and all this will be just a bad memory.
I'm also thankful for the lesson I learned: it's just hair.
A couple of weeks ago, I had an appointment with my regular hairdresser to get a haircut. She wasn't there when I showed up, and I ended up making an appointment with a new hairdresser. I figured it would be ok, after all it's just hair and I didn't want anything out of the ordinary.
I arrived at the new place on time for my appointment, only to be met by a stare. I guess I wasn't what they were expecting? Whatever. Sat down and waited. Finally, after 20 minutes waiting, it was my turn. I showed the hairdresser the picture, she got ready to begin, and then it happened. She cut the first piece. As I felt the razor go through my hair, I knew this haircut would be a disaster.
She cut that first piece really short, shorter than I wanted it. There is no way to fix that mishap except to cut the rest of the hair the same length and let it all blend in. I walked out of there with the worst haircut of my life, and mad that I had to pay for it.
If you saw me, you'd probably say it looks fine. Except this is not what I wanted and paid for.
I was feeling pretty blue last night after I washed the bottle of hairspray off my head. I looked in the mirror and realized just how bad it really was, how much styling it would take to make the hair look ok (at least to my standards), and was about ready to ask my husband for the clippers so I could finish the job and join him in the world of baldness.
That's when the voice in my head whispered something to me: Think of the women who are battling cancer, who have lost their hair, who are wishing theirs were as long as yours is right now.
I felt pretty ashamed. There I was, dwelling on my stupid hair, worrying about what people are going to think of it, completely absorbed in my own pity party.
I said a prayer for all those women who are cancer survivors, who are currently fighting cancer, and those who lost their battles. Many of those women are family, friends, coworkers.
I decided to make a donation in the same amount I paid for this haircut to the American Cancer Society, in honor of all women who have lost their hair during their battle with cancer.
I am still mad at the hairdresser for messing it up and still expecting me to pay for it. But I'm no longer upset over the hair I lost. I am thankful because I'm healthy and before long, my hair will grow back and all this will be just a bad memory.
I'm also thankful for the lesson I learned: it's just hair.
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