What happened to all my status updates?

It's no great secret that I'm addicted to Facebook.

You know that person who updates their status several times a day? The one that you had to "hide" because you didn't need to know all the details of their life every time you went online?

That's me.

Status updates are one of my favourite methods of self-expression. If you want to get right down to the truth, sometimes I think strictly in third person status updates. I may need therapy.

Anyways. Lately, I've noticed that I haven't been getting the usual amount of feedback on my status updates. And I know it's not just that they were boring. There were some good ones in there.

ahem. You know, because my kids are funny.

I usually access FB on my Ipod Touch (because of all the computer issues I've been whining about). I downloaded the updated version of FB for the Iphone and it turns out that status updates posted from the mobile version only show up in my profile, and not in everyone's news feed. So unless people regularly check my profile, i.e. they are my mom, my great status updates haven't been getting out there. (Tongue in cheek people, tongue in cheek).

I thought I'd share a few of my favourites from the last week as a way to update you on the goings on of the weenut household (you know, since I haven't been writing for a few weeks)(names changed of course):

-Peanut's life took a sudden and dramatic turn for the better when she met Peanut-lover 9 years ago this month :) He cherishes her just like her momma said he would when he was still only a dream in her young heart. He constantly strives to be the best husband, father, and man that he can be. Who could ask for more??

-Vim + Mr. Clean Magic Erasers + my kitchen sinks... now that's magic! (btw, no one is allowed to use my clean, shiny sinks for the rest of eternity ;)

-Peanut is googling "Princess Party ideas" and looking into supplies needed for a Princess birthday cake. You guessed it - Peanut-lover's birthday's coming up! ;)

-Peanut hopes to have laundry caught up, the house tidied, and the freezer stocked with lots of lunches before Peanut-lover gets home late tonight. Who says she doesn't dream big??!!

-Dear KK and JJ, as the mornings are getting darker, you're supposed to be sleeping in LATER. You're doing this backwards and it's not cool. Sleep is cool. Love Mommy.

-Peanut is having crazy thoughts that involve her hair and scissors...

-JJ is standing naked at the table coloring with markers. This scenario cannot end well.

-KK is completing a sentence that she started 15 minutes ago and JJ is hitting himself in the head with a spoon. Just another day in paradise.

-KK says, "JJ stop crying. I can't hear my cartoons!". Where do I pick up my Mommy-of-the-year Award??!!

-Peanut has been trying to listen to an online sermon for 2 hours. With two small children running around, she's finally 8 minutes in... time to give up?

-Peanut slept with KK in her toddler bed last night. OUCH!

-Peanut can hear the Oreo ice cream calling out to her. Must resist.... maybe just a small bowl? No. Resist.

-Peanut thinks that a recipe index that lists something under "E" for "easy" instead of "C" for "chicken" (ie easy chicken tettrazini) is insanely stupid.

There you have it. Now you're all caught up ;)

Another hard post to write: Leukemia

I have this folder in my favourites menu that I never open. It's called Leukemia. I'm not even sure what's in there anymore because I have avoided opening it for so long. I collected various websites that I thought would hold useful information about the disease over 3 years ago when I first found out that my mom had been diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL).

I have ignored it since.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want it in our lives.

But it's still here. And it's so freaking scary that sometimes I think I can't breathe. And every so often, I have to cry hard just to let the top level of the pain out, so I can continue on.

In so many areas of my life, I am an open book. I've always been that way, never seeing the point of trying to pretend that I'm something that I'm not. But in this area, in the dealing with the fact that my mom has cancer, I've kept my feelings pretty private. Even within my family, I have only been able to brush the surface of the realities and the fears. It's strange to be so private about something so huge, but my answer about it is often, "It sucks. I hate it and I don't want to talk about it."

Because CLL is considered a chronic illness, patients go through treatments when their symptoms start adversly affecting their quality of life. The goal isn't to erradicate the disease, but rather to put it into remission for a period of time. So, for example, my mom had 8 monthly rounds of chemo that finished nearly 3 years ago and then did fine for about 2 years. Then her symtoms returned. Now she is back on chemo.

This time, it seems to have hit us really hard. Maybe it's because she seems sicker this time. Or maybe because it feels like the disease is in control right now. Or maybe it's the feeling of defeat in that she has to go back on chemo again. We all know that chemo ain't pretty.

I find myself bouncing around between three of the stages of grief: denial, depression, and anger. The anger, though I know it is something I have to go through, is surprising. I can be ok and then it just hits me, overwhelming me with fury at the disease:

How dare you touch my mom like this? How dare you make her suffer? How dare you cut into our family like this? How dare you make us trample down this unknown path?

This is hard. This sucks. I hate it. I don't want to talk about it, but I have to. It's too big to hold inside myself.

It's here. It's real. It's in my life. It's in my family.

It's leukemia and I hate it.

Random thoughts that prove how uncool I really am (just in case it needed proving)

It should come as no surprise to you that I've never been known for my coolness. In high-school, I was so uncool in fact, that I didn't even really clue in that I was already wearing bad-mama jeans or granny glasses. In elementary school, I showed off my uncoolness by annoying the cool kids with my incessant humming. Yes, humming.

My uncoolness has continued on into adulthood. My kids haven't quite realized it yet, but they will soon. Their daddy is quite aware. And so are any of my neighbors that can see into my living room.

So when I first heard the song, "Fire Burning" by Sean Kingston, I was sure it was about me. And my living room dance parties.

If you aren't familiar with the song, here it is.
This isn't the best quality, but quite honestly, if I posted the actual music video, some people would quit reading my blog. And start praying fervently for me. I'm just sayin'.

"Somebody call 9-1-1. Shawty fire burning on the dance floor.
O-o-oh"

Although I know some have at least thought of calling 9-1-1 when they've seen me dancing, it turns out this song is actually about calling 9-1-1 to put a fire out... not to get an ambulance because someone is having a seizure. So, not actually about my dancing. Guess I'm not famous after all.

I know what you're thinking... you're thinking my dancing can't be all that bad.

It is.

That bad.

Yes.

There have been complaints.

KK is really into this song right now, and so I thought I'd use it to take my uncoolness to another level (I know you didn't think it was possible, but it is). I actually used the song to teach KK about dialing 9-1-1 in an emergency. Oh yes, I did.

Anyone want to make a bet on how long it'll take her before she calls?

More on depression (or why I haven't been writing)

(I wrote about depression once before. You can find that post here. I write in the hopes that I can clear up some misunderstandings about depression or at least explain how it affects me.)

I go through pretty predictable cycles of depression. Not predictable in that I could mark it on my calendar, although truthfully, I've never tried, so maybe I could. But predictable in that the factors are almost always the same and I can usually catch my descent before it gets to the point that I need outside help.

A cycle typically starts with me getting over-tired. Several nights up with a sick kid, a difficult recovery from working night shifts, a camping trip... or sometimes all of the above. I legitimately need to rest, so I limit plans and stay close to home. Unfortunately, not getting out causes me to start descending into depression. And what happens next is what I believe is a poorly understood part of depression.

As I start to feel less able to cope with life, I tend to pull into where I feel safe. Since I'm a hermit anyways, I tend to hide myself away more and more. But not getting out leads me into depression. As I start slipping, it gets harder and harder to organize myself. I can't complete thoughts. I can't make decisions. My sis-in-law describes it perfectly as "like a state of confusion".

In this state of confusion, where I can't make plans and can't make decisions, the smallest things overwhelm me. It's like trying to climb over a small hill, except that it feels like a huge mountain. So trying to pack a diaper bag to go out for the morning, or get the kids dressed feel like massive jobs with millions of steps and I can't figure out where to start. Small things overwhelm me, causing me to pull in further to where I feel safe.

For someone who has never experienced depression, it seems so simple. Just get out more and I'll feel better. But I can't make myself go out. I can't figure out how to do it. I'm confused, remember?

Usually, I can catch a cycle of depression before it gets to the point where I actually need someone to take over for me. It's taken several episodes of depression and some counselling to get me to the point where I can recognize the signs and implement plans to get myself back on track.

Sometimes, though, it sneaks up on me and blindsides me. And then Peanut-lover has to take over. (Thank you Lord that he has intentionally stretched his own understanding to learn more about how depression affects me and how he can help me deal with it). Peanut-lover offers me rest and then walks me through decision-making and plan-making until I feel that I can take it on again.

Last week, I got blindsided.

And I crashed.

I can look back over the 6 weeks and see all the signs now, but I really didn't see it coming this time. I just thought I was tired. (And I had plenty of reasons to be tired, believe me). Each day last week was progressively worse, until Friday, where I spent most of the day in tears.* By the time Peanut-lover got home, I was a complete mess.... I couldn't stop crying and I had started thinking irrational thoughts that I hadn't entertained for years.

(*Here seems like a good time to clarify that depression is not just a deeper level of sadness. Although sadness can be involved, it is the confusion and inability to organize that are the immobilizing factors of depression.)

Peanut-lover let me cry it all out, held me, prayed with me, and then started making decisions for me. For someone who takes care of people for a living (at work AND at home), it is a great relief to have the load taken off of me every-so-often. Peanut-lover sent the kids out with Grandma and Grandpa for the evening and took me for a burrito and a walk. He implemented Tuesday nights as our night where we hang out together after the kids are in bed and catch up with each other. He insisted that I make plans once-a-month to get out with a girlfriend and helped me figure out how I could make that happen.

The next day, he took the kids for the entire day to visit his family so that I could get caught up on some stuff that had been overwhelming me and get some time to myself. When he got home from his day out with the kids, he helped me clean out the corner of our room beside my side of the bed so that I could relax when I go to bed (a huge project which I will try to blog about soon).

I have a little bit of momentum now, but I need to keep moving. I've made some plans and am working on some more plans for the coming weeks. I work two night shifts this weekend, so I'll be fighting extra hard to avoid falling into the cycle again.

If you deal with depression, what are the skills you have learned to fight it off?

If you know someone who gets depressed, what do you do to support them?

And if you know my husband, can you thank him for being such a strength for me? Aren't I blessed to have him?!

Five things I love about my body

Welcome to Five Things Thursday! This week's love affair is five things I love about my body. Yes, this body. And no, there will be no pictures this week. Thanks for asking.

If you're thinking this would be one of those posts that falls under the category of things I don't really love but am learning to be content with, you'd be right.

Let's get on with it.


1. My birthmark

I have this little birthmark on my left upper arm. Unless I've pointed it out to you, you probably wouldn't even know it was there. It's cute and little. It makes me unique. It looks like an island. I like it. I've always liked it.

2. My stretchmarks

I have more than my fair share of stretchmarks. Truth be told, I have more than five women's fair share of stretchmarks. I often look at them with disgust and wish my body could be back to what it was like when I only thought it wasn't perfect. But sometimes, I run my fingers over the more prominent marks and remember that brief time when I sacrificed my body for the sake of my children. I remember what it felt like to feel my babies move and stretch within me.

Truth be told, only those whose lives have been affected by the result of these scars on my body will ever see these marks. And they think I'm beautiful for what I did to create this family.

3. My tummy

KK has been asking lately why my tummy is so big. I keep telling her that I grew two babies in there and that it's harder for the muscles to hold everything together now (and that it's not nice to tell someone that their tummy is big).

I am probably most self-conscious about my tummy. Yet, it is where my children love to cuddle and if that's not reason enough to love it, I don't know what is!

4. My hair

Ok, so I've been complaining about my hair a lot lately, but I really am blessed with great hair. It's easy to maintain, extremely thick, and very healthy. I should stop complaining.

5. My height

I'm 5'4''. I'd like to think that's average height, but I'm married into a family of abnormally tall people, so I'm referred to as "short" quite frequently. But, short or not, I like this height. I deal with shorter people all day, and I have little distance to travel to get down to their level. I never have trouble finding pants that are long enough for my short legs. If I need to get something that is out of my reach, I can either grab a chair or play the damsel in distress and get my hubby to reach it for me. He's one of those abnormally tall people.

Ok, that wasn't so hard.

Now it's your turn. What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

***Mr Linky stays open until next Thursday when I post my next Five Things Thursday, so join in whenever you are able***

How our story began

It was September 2000.

No, wait. Let's start before that.

It was, uh, before September 2000. Peanut-lover was praying for a wife.

(Oh, except that he wasn't Peanut-lover yet, because there was no Peanut yet, so he was just himself.)

(Hmmmm... not that I didn't exist yet. I'm young, but not that young.... but... oh just keep reading!)

He'd been praying for a wife for about two years and God had given him a vision of what it would be like to meet me her. And it happened just like he'd seen:

It was September 2000. The first day back at school. Peanut-lover was walking through one of the buildings on campus, and he saw me. He tells me that he walked by several times, trying to get a good look at me, and maybe even my attention. I was too busy reading to notice him. What was I reading? Finding the Love of Your Life. I tell no lies.

That night, he announced to his friends that he'd found the woman he was going to marry. Of course, they wanted to know all about me. All he knew was that I was wearing an orange shirt. So, for a few days, I was "the girl in the orange shirt". When that got a little old, they named me Natasha (not my real name).

His friends told him that I probably had a boyfriend and to pay attention to my outfit the next time he saw me. If I wasn't dressed up, then I had a boyfriend. The next time he saw me, I was wearing track pants and a t-shirt, ponytail and running shoes. Yep. I had a boyfriend.

I first saw Peanut-lover a few days later at my church. Don't ask me anything about the service that day because all I could tell you is that a couple rows ahead of me was this tall, hot guy, in a bright red shirt, with shoulders and arms that I couldn't stop staring at.

For a few weeks, we saw each other around campus a few times. Once, we even sat at the same table, studying. I didn't say we were studying our books. But it still took a few weeks for Peanut-lover to get up the nerve to make his big move: he sent his friend Jen over to meet me. Before we knew it, the three of us were hanging out all the time.

Oh, right. The boyfriend problem. Well, Peanut-lover asked me about that. I informed him that the guy I was dating was just for fun. Oh, and then I pulled out a picture of the guy I was actually going to marry once he realized he couldn't live without me achieved some career goals. Confused? Yeah, so was Peanut-lover.

(I know, right? What can I say? I'm not proud of me, but having had my heart recently broken, and finding myself suddenly the object of a lot of male attention, I wasn't being particularly careful with the hearts that were being handed to me. Not proud, but it's accurate history.)

Well, it took him 3 months, but Peanut-lover finally won my heart. Although if he'd been paying attention, it might have taken him a little less time. (Yo, Peanut-lover: remember the night you came over to help me study? Did you notice the candles and romantic music? Yeah, well, I didn't really want to study. But, uh, thanks anyways.)

The jury is still out about who kissed who first. (I blame him. He blames me.) Regardless, the two kisses in question were just minutes apart and it was kind of assumed that we were a couple after that. That was December 2, 2000 and we have been inseparable ever since.

(Oh, and then he started calling me Peanut. I'd like to think it's because he thinks I'm cute and little... and not that I cause life-threatening allergies.)


More to come...

Five things I love about being a nurse

(I'm really excited about this post because I've been waiting to write it for about a month!)

I've been back at work now for two months. I don't love going to work, because I really do feel that my focus needs to be at home right now, but I do love being a nurse. Here are five reasons why:

1. The nurse-patient relationship

The relationship I have with most of my patients is pretty unique. There aren't a lot of situations in life where, within 30 seconds of meeting someone, you might have your hands all over them, or be invited into the depth of their emotions. Sure there are some patients that consider us nurses their adversaries, or worse, their servants... but most times, we very quickly enter into a unique relationship of love and trust. I do my best to love them fully throughout my shift and they do their best to trust that I will care for them to the utmost of my ability.

A patient recently told me that I have healing hands. I love the difference that I can make with my hands. I can hold a patient's hand as I speak to him and look him in the eye, or touch her knee for a moment while I assess her status and the connection that is made in that brief moment is profound. North American culture has made touch between adults quite infrequent, yet I believe we need physical contact with people. I love that I can provide it in a healthy, healing way.

2. Work that is both physically and intellectually challenging

I come home from each shift physically and mentally exhausted, but with an energy that comes from having worked hard. It's a good exhaustion. The kind that comes from knowing I did my best all day.

People often tell me that they could never do my job, with a tone like they might use if they were saying the same thing to a plumber. Yeah, there are some less desirable parts of my job, but even when I'm doing these physical duties, my mind is always going. I'm always assessing, evaluating, comparing, figuring out. Even with body fluids. Even with pee.

3. Unlimited career directions and flexibility

When I graduated from nursing school over 5 years ago, I had no idea all the different avenues that one could take as a nurse. Some nurses use their skills to travel all around the world. I'd like to think that one day, I will be able to take my nursing skills to Africa to help with health promotion in some of the world's poorest countries. Other nurses use their skills to advocate for important changes to health or safety policies. Some day I will be one of those nurses. One can choose to nurse from the youngest babies all the way up to the very elderly. I am currently nursing adults who have had surgery, or are waiting for surgery, or have gastrointestinal disease.

Nursing, for me, has been a very flexible career. Right now, I'm working five shifts a month, only on weekends. Because of the extended shifts, I can work mostly once/week and be working the equivalent of two 8-hr days/week. I love that I can build my work schedule around my family needs. I'm fortunate that my work has been very good about accommodating me. They have trouble filling weekend shifts, and so are willing to let me work only weekends. It is really nice not to have rotating shifts right now because it gives us more of a weekly routine. When the kids are in school, I hope to be able to find a job where I can work only while they are in classes and be home for them after school. I knew that a profession that is 96% female would have to be family-friendly in some way.

4. Supportive colleagues

I work with great, great people. These nurses and other allied health workers work their butts off taking care of their patients. And we all work hard to take care of each other. We often work independently, but when we need help, another nurse will be there as quickly as possible. Nurses give up breaks to help each other. Nurses support each other emotionally, and believe me, we face some emotional challenges in our profession. This past weekend, one of our coworkers had a close family member pass away unexpectedly, in the hospital, right at the beginning of our shift. Immediately, we sent her to be with her family and covered for her until another nurse was able to replace her a few hours later. I love that we take care of each other. I love that we challenge each other. I love my coworkers.

5. Independence

Nurses work within a great team, but we also work independently. Many times in a shift, we are required to use our judgement to make decisions about the care we provide. It may be that we hold a medication because our assessment of the patient indicates that the medication would be harmful at that particular time. Or it may mean that we have to make some quick decisions and get the doctors involved because our nursing sense tells us that our patient is about to deteriorate. Good doctors know to trust the judgement that a nurse has about his or her patient, because the nurse is the only health professional that is with the patient for an extended period of time. Each nurse has a story of how they used their quick thinking and assessment skills to catch a problem before it was too late.

I love being a nurse. It is my calling. It fits my family. It fits me.

What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

Three's about me!

Elizabeth at Three Channels tagged me for this meme. She is an inspiring writer, so if you need some inspiration, go pay her a visit!

Three names I have been called:
1. Toots (only my dad can get away with that one)
2. Bluemoon (it wasn't blue, but it was a moon)
3. Peanut (yep, I didn't just pull that one out of my butt the air!)

Three jobs I have had in my life:
1. Receptionist (where I regularly dropped calls and faxed things face-up!)
2. Second cook at camp (a perfect place to spot cute boys)
3. Chicken processor (my all-time favourite job, but only for the summers, then I was DONE!)

Three places I have lived:
1. In a house
2. In university dorms
3. In a condo

Three hobbies:
1. Blogging (duh)
2. Photography (duh)
3. Cross-stitch (once-upon-a-time)

Three things most people do not know about me:
1. I have noticed recently that I walk too fast for automatic doors. Which is really strange. Because Peanut-lover thinks that I walk really slow. And I don't hear about him crashing into any automatic doors.

2. I have this strange association with 6:37 am. It's the time that I used to set my alarm clock when I was in high-school and now it seems I look at the clock every morning at this exact time. Yesterday morning, I was thinking about writing about it and I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if I looked at the clock right now and it was 6:37?" I was pretty sure it was after 7 already, but sure enough, 6:37 on the dot!

3. I count everything. It's not obsessive-compulsive because I don't have to count to feel better. I just like to count.

Three TV shows that I watch (we don't have cable):
1. The Office (I have a huge crush on Jim Halpert)
2. The noon news
3. The Doodlebops (KK's obsession)

Three Places I have been:
1. The Eiffel Tower
2. Barcelona, Spain during the 1992 Olympics
3. A variety of places in Mexico

Three Places I want to go:
1. Hawaii
2. Alaska
3. Mexico (again)

Care to join in? I can't remember who has and who hasn't done this one yet, so I'm tagging the entire universe (or the small portion that reads my blog). Feel free to leave your list in the comments if you don't have a blog.

Have a great weekend. I'm on my way to working ALL WEEKEND and, after being sick all week, not one bit happy about it.

How depression freed me

When I was 19, I was in my second year of a Bachelor of Science. My intentions were to go to med school and become a doctor, most likely a pediatrician. I was driven. I was motivated. But I was in pain.

Part of the way through my second term, I started having trouble sitting for more than 45 minutes. I mean, it was AGONY to sit. My tailbone hurt so bad that I started alternately skipping classes so that I didn't have more than one hour to sit at a time. Some days, I would walk back to dorms and even just the walking was agony for me.

X-rays revealed a longer than normal tailbone (yeah, I had a tail) and my doctor prescribed me anti-inflammatories which did nothing for my tailbone pain, but were incidentally miraculous for my menstrual pain.

I failed two courses that term. I had NEVER failed anything in my life.

That summer, I went through a series of treatments to try to fix the problem. First, manual adjustment under general anesthesia (if you can't figure it out, just trust me, you don't want to know). Next, an extremely painful x-ray guided cortisone shot. Nothing helped.

Finally, at the end of August, the last option presented to me was to remove the lower portion of my tailbone... the coccyx part. My surgeon felt it would be effective and so the date was set. And the day before I was to leave for my third year of university, I made the decision to take time off for the surgery.

Suddenly, my life was empty. My purpose for 14 years had been to study. I started to flounder.

The surgery came and went. Two days in the hospital and I was sent home with a scar that "not even my future husband would be able to notice" and this:

Yes, being medically inclined, I asked the surgeon if I could keep my coccyx and he obliged. (The "Do you want to see my tailbone?" joke never gets old for me!)

A few weeks later, my incision had not healed up properly and I was readmitted to the hospital for two weeks to manage an infection. Twice, I had to go to the OR for debridement (cleaning out) and packing of the wound. I didn't realize just how large my wound was until I became a nurse. When I left the hospital, my wound was about 2 inches deep and 2 inches wide. Here is a picture of the amount of packing that was required at first:

That same summer, I had begun to realize that while medical school interested me, the life of a doctor did not. I became aware that being the kind of wife and mother I wanted to be would be incredibly difficult as a doctor. My dream, my parents' dream, my teachers' dream... I let it go. But I didn't know what to replace it with. And so I floundered some more.

And then, that same summer, I fell in love. I gave my heart away and it got broken. Bad. Real bad.

Suddenly, I had nothing. No purpose, no direction, no love. I hit rock bottom and I hit it hard.

And I stopped caring.

First I stopped caring if I lived. Then I stopped caring what people thought or expected of me. Then I stopped caring about things that didn't matter, like rigid schedules or unimportant rules.

And then I was free.

It took a long time to recover from that very low place and I have returned to it twice more, and also suffered with postpartum depression twice.

But each time I recovered, I was different. I felt more, both in sadness and in joy. I understood emotion more. Life was less about success and accomplishments, schedules and routines. Life was more about people.

If you didn't know me before my depression, you may be surprised to hear that I was more rigid and more strict than I am now. Yes, it is true. I was more rigid and strict than I am now. It is possible. Just ask my brother how stressed out I'd get if he messed up any of my schedules (I am quite sure he would do it on purpose).

Depression is very misunderstood and a lot of people suffer privately because of the social stigma attached. I try to be very open about my experience of depression in the hopes that I can promote understanding and compassion.

...because it's not all bad. My depression freed me.

My new toy

I recently received some inheritance money from my Grandma's estate. Since I'm the type that would do something really responsible with it, like pay down student loans, Peanut-lover decided that he was in charge of buying something special for me. Something I really wanted (read #95 here), but that was all kinds of money that I wouldn't dream of spending on myself.

So on my birthday, which also happens to be the biggest sale day of the year in Canada, Peanut-lover went out and bought me this:

Pretty, isn't she? I love her.


Here are some of my favourite pictures from our Christmas holidays.

(My mom with JJ on his birthday)

(My Dad's Christmas tree)

(New Year's Dinner at my Dad's home)

Thanks Peanut-lover. Thanks Grandma. (Miss you).

I think I've crossed the line

Today I was searching for some nutmeg in my baking cupboard. I had to dig around quite a bit because my baking cupboard is highly disorganized. And not because I bake all the time. I'm not a baking mom, but I really wish I was. So I collect miscellaneous baking stuff that I never use.

Before I found the nutmeg, way at the back of the second shelf, I found a single-serve grape jelly packet. How long has that been in there?

I thought all day about how the grape jelly got in there. Finally, it came to me. When I was on bedrest in the hospital during KK's pregnancy, I saved it from one of my meal trays. I figured it was just going in the garbage anyway, so I thought I would save us some money and bring it home with me. That was 2005.

*snort*

I don't even like grape jelly!

What do you think? Have I crossed the line from being frugal to being just plain cheap?

100 things you may not know about me

As this is my 100th post, and because I like rules (even if they are imaginary), I am reposting my updated 100 things list. Yep, that's right. Re-posting. Because when I was new, I didn't realize it was supposed to be posted to celebrate my 100th post (and yes, I'm aware that the rules are imaginary... I like rules that much). And I apologize to those who have followed me from the beginning. I like you, but I also like the newbies.... and I really like rules.

1. My real name is not Peanut.
2. I'm fast approaching 30.
3. 30 really isn't as old as I used to think it was.
4. My favourite color is blue.
5. My best girlfriend's favourite color is blue.
6. I took french-immersion until the end of grade 9.
7. I gave it up because I felt lost in the school and wanted to go to school with my friends
8. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made!
9. I graduated as the "Top Academic Student" and "Top All-Around Student" in high school.
10. Both awards came as a complete shock to me!
11. I won enough scholarships/bursaries to pay for my first two years of University.
12. I started out doing a chemistry degree with the intention of going to medical school.
13. I realized that a career in medicine was not going to allow me to have the family life I desired.
14. I transferred to the nursing program.
15. I've been an RN for 5 years.
16. Nursing is my calling.
17. My work is incredibly challenging, but also very fulfilling.
18. I work with some great people, who care a lot about their patients.
19. I'm married to my best friend.
20. His real name is not Peanut-lover.
21. We've been married for over 6 years.
22. We met at University.
23. When he first saw me, I was wearing an orange shirt.
24. When I first saw him, he was wearing a red shirt.
25. We both still own those shirts, but he refuses to wear his (even though he still looks HOT in it!)
26. When he first saw me, I was reading the book "Finding the Love of your life". True story.
27. The evening after he first saw me, he told his friends that he'd found the girl he was going to marry.
28. They asked what my name was. He didn't know, so they called me Natasha.
29. Natasha is not my real name.
30. After a few weeks of stalking me seeing me around school, he got brave and sent a friend over to meet me.
31. Shortly after we first met, I told him that I was going to marry someone else.
32. I even showed him a picture of that someone else.
33. I didn't marry someone else.
34. Peanut-lover and I hung out at school for about 2 months before we started dating.
35. We dated for almost a year, then he proposed.
36. He was planning on waiting till our one-year anniversary to propose.
37. But once he picked up the ring, he freaked out and proposed within hours.
38. I knew he was going to propose soon, but I didn't think he had the ring yet.
39. We had picked out the ring together, then he left me in the car to talk about financing.
40. He told me they didn't do financing, so we'd have to wait.
41. I'm really naive.
42. He had purchased the ring that day.
43. He proposed with a ring.
44. I was too caught up with how pretty it was to cry.
45. I meant to cry.
46. We got married in May because I love the spring.
47. We got married one week after my final exams.
48. I skipped a week of Nursing school for my honeymoon.
49. It was worth it!
50. Peanut-lover is nearing the completion of his PhD.
51. In Neuroscience.
52. His educational life itself is old enough to drink alcohol, even in the States.
53. He uses a lot of really big words.
54. I have mild scoliosis. My spine twists to the right between my shoulder blades and to the left in the middle of my back.
55. Even though it is mild, my scoliosis causes me a lot of pain. I do physio and special exercises regularly.
56. I had part of my tailbone surgically removed 9 years ago. The coccyx part.
57. I keep it in a jar of formaldehyde. I'm that weird.
58. We purchased our first home 4 years ago.
59. When we first moved in, we kept "losing" each other in all the space.
60. Now we keep losing each other under all our stuff.
61. We live in 900 sq. ft.
62. It requires a lot of organization to have 4 people in such small quarters.
63. I don't want to have to clean more than 900 sq. ft of home.
64. I don't want to have to chase children in more than 900 sq. ft of home.
65. I have a 3-year-old daughter.
66. Her name is not KK.
67. She is obsessed with the doodlebops.
68. I spent the last 7 weeks of my pregnancy with her on bedrest.
69. I developed pre-eclampsia at 36 weeks and had to be induced at 38 weeks.
70. My labor was 2.5 hours long.
71. I had a difficult recovery which involved many nurse visits and one emerg visit.
72. I breast-fed KK for almost 21 months.
73. I was already pregnant when she and I weaned.
74. I have a 10-month-old son.
75. His name is not JJ.
76. I first felt him move when I was 9 weeks pregnant. He's that active!
77. I spent the last 3 weeks of my pregnancy with him on bedrest.
78. I developed pre-eclampsia at 35 weeks.
79. He was delivered without induction at 38 weeks.
80. My labor was 6 hours long.
81. He and I came home six hours after he was born.
82. It was much easier to recover at home, with my family to care for me.
83. I thought of getting pregnant again just so that I could hang out with my midwives more.
84. It was just the hormones.
85. I'm on maternity leave until January 2009.
86. I have only thought about work twice since I've been off.
87. I will be returning for one shift/weekend.
88. I enjoy being at home with my kids.
89. I enjoy managing our home.
90. I enjoy cooking great meals for my family.
91. I love ethnic foods, especially Indian, Korean, and Mexican.
92. I love photography.
93. I keep about 100-200 good photos a month.
94. I dream about taking some photography courses.
95. I dream about buying a DSLR camera. One day...
96. I'm a homebody and find it very difficult to get out of the house, especially with two kids!
97. I am very shy and hate having attention drawn to me.
98. When I try to speak out in a group setting, the words come out in the wrong order, or occasionally upside-down.
99. It is an endless source of frustration for me because I actually have things I want to say.
100. Hence the blog.

Some good news for once

SIGH!

(That's me heaving a big sigh of relief.)

Five weeks ago, when I was feeding JJ, I found a lump in my breast. I went to see my doctor, thinking she would tell me it was normal. Instead she sent me for an ultrasound.

I was freaked out.

I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to make a big deal of it. But I did make a really big deal about it in my head. I'm a worrier by nature.

After recently losing our friend Con to cancer, I was understandably nervous. Not nervous for me really, but nervous for my family. I couldn't bear to see them suffer like I knew they would. (Because they like me. At least I think they do. Well, most of them.)

Yesterday, I finally had my ultrasound. Up on the wall was a notice saying that the technician couldn't give me the results of my exam. But she did. She said it was just a normal thickening. I still have to see my doctor for the final report, but what a relief!

I was so happy afterward that I went to London Drugs and impulse shopped for a little while. Don't worry about our bank account. Impulse shopping for me means that I picked up some hangers and some flash cards (I'm wild and crazy like that!)

Now that the stress is off, I am surprised to feel rather... uh... nothing. Or maybe even a little low. That has surprised me. I think I'm just worn out from carrying the stress for so long.

Or maybe I have a little survivor guilt. I mean, lots of people get cancer. Why would I be spared this time?

Or maybe it's just the usual let down after waiting for something...

Weird, eh?

Three's a Crowd

I'm writing this post as part of Soap Opera Sunday which is being hosted by one of my favourite bloggers, Heather of the Extraordinary Ordinary. Honestly, I can't believe she reads my stuff because her writing is SO GOOD! Sometimes I think she is me because she writes exactly what I'm feeling, except in an articulate, introspective way.

This week's theme is "Three's Company or Three's a Crowd."

Back when I was thirteen, I was a happy-go-lucky, naive little girl. Clueless about a lot, let me tell you.

Youth Group was where you could find me every Friday night. Yes, even though my younger brother claimed he never wanted to be a teenager if it meant giving up Friday family night to go hang out with friends. Oh, I was a family girl, just not on Friday nights.

This particular Friday night, we had gone out to some meeting for something at some camp out somewhere. The details are slightly foggy. After the service, or meeting, or whatever it was, we were all just hanging out in little groups, doing what teens do best, just hangin'.

Somehow, I found myself alone with a much older guy and girl. They were probably 17, which, when you're barely 13, seems practically grown-up. I was cracking jokes with them and probably having what I thought was very mature discussions with them. I had no idea they were just trying to get alone because they liked each other. And probably wanted to make-out. Because I was naive. And clueless. And cluelessly clueless.

Then the guy asked the girl if she wanted to go for a walk. And I said, "Sure! I love walks!". So off we went. The guy. The girl. And me. Smack dab in between them. (I'm so embarassed for myself right now.)

It wasn't until many days later, when I heard the guy talking about how he and this girl were now dating, that I finally got it. Three's a crowd, and number 3? Well, that was me.

To find more on this week's theme, head on over to SOS at the Extraordinary Ordinary. You'll be glad you did!

Faking it

When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was grow up. Now that I'm technically there... all I can think is when am I going to feel grown-up?

Sometimes I feel like I'm faking it, an imposter, and one day, everyone is going to discover that I'm not really grown-up. Especially when I'm around other grown-ups... as in everyone I hang out with!

Peanut-lover says to me, "You feel like you're faking it... as in, you feel like you're faking having two kids, a job, and a mortgage?"

No, not quite. Just faking being grown-up.

Anyone else ever feel like that?

A Hard Post to Write

Many of you know this already, but for those of you who don't... very early Saturday morning, our friend Con ended her battle with colorectal cancer. This is the same friend that I wrote about here. She leaves behind a devoted husband and two boys, 13 and 9.

I have struggled with writing about it for a few different reasons. Firstly, I don't want to use their sad story as "material" for my blog... in fact, I dread the thought. And also, I don't like writing about gloomy stuff or anything that might draw attention for the wrong reasons. I like being silly and goofy. I like writing about light-hearted stuff.

But tonight, my heart is not light and it just feels wrong to write about silly stuff. And I don't want to NOT write, because I like you guys. I like how you come back for more every day and support me with comments, here or on facebook or email. So I don't want to just go away. And I want my blog to be an honest journaling of my life. So that is why I write tonight.

The connection I had to Con was that our husbands work together. Three years ago when she first was diagnosed with cancer, we hardly knew her and only knew her husband from work stuff. But Peanut-lover felt strongly that he needed to support her husband, so he started going to the gym with him every morning before work. Through that time, they became close friends and over the past 6 months, we have spent a lot of time with Con and her family.

The last time I saw her was less than two weeks ago in the hospital. She looked tired, but otherwise very well and was anticipating being discharged on the weekend. She knew she had only weeks to live, but was intent on fighting until the very end. She wanted more time with her boys.

We went on our camping trip and cut it short by a day because of the rain. We got home on Thursday afternoon, unpacked, started in on the laundry, had supper, got the kids to bed, finished a movie, turned off the lights... then the phone rang. We learned that Con was not well and Peanut-lover decided to go to the hospital to support his friend for a few hours.

Friday morning at 8:30, we learned that Con was not expected to survive the day. So Peanut-lover went back to the hospital, along with another coworker and stayed there until the very end. He came home at 6:30 am and caught a few hours of sleep.

These days have been hard for us. Not hard like they are for her family, but still hard. And I can only tell our story. There is sadness and grief, exhaustion, confusion, and frustration. I am trying to be strong, because Peanut-lover is trying to be strong to help his friend through the grief. I have not had much opportunity to grieve myself. My role is to take on more at home so that Peanut-lover is freed up to be with his friend. I got really frustrated with the kids today, which is shameful because Con, a mom, had to leave her two boys behind yesterday.

I'm also struggling to explain to KK what has happened. She can't possibly grasp death or grief, but is noticing the sadness and will notice Con's absence. She talked about Con all the time. She will miss her. I've told her that Con was very sick and that her body stopped working. I've told her that usually when people get sick, they get better, but sometimes they don't. I've told her that Con has gone to heaven and we are all sad because we don't get to see her anymore. I don't know what else to tell her, so I just repeat these things over and over every time they come up. And they come up at the most unexpected times.

If I seem absent, it is because I'm running on autopilot. I'm catching myself lost in memories or sad thoughts and not even realizing that my children have been needing my attention. I feel like I'm walking through jello. So I need to try to use my focused time on my children.

Blogwise, I'm not sure what this week will look like. I hope it will not all be sad. It might be a little bare. I do have some funny stories that I want to tell. I just have to figure out how to weave them in at this sad time, without seeming disrepectful or fake. Bear with me...

A really great idea

I saw this great idea at Rookie Moms.

They are called Mama Merit Badges. Little badges that you give yourself when you know you've earned them. And you'll know. Breastfeeding, diaper changes, medical, restaurant etc. You can iron them on whatever you want (diaper bag, t-shirt) to show that you've survived a particular element of being a mom.

You can find them here. You can read stories about when other people knew they'd earned one here.

Is it weird that this idea makes me cry?

One experiment that actually worked

I've always been a bit of an experimenter. Not a good experimenter mind you. My family is vigorously nodding their heads as they read. I was just really curious. And not very, um, scientific.

Like the time I studied whether shampoo tastes the same as it smells. (It doesn't.) (Not even the kind with honey in the name, which is what got me started in the first place.)

Or the time I was baking and substituted baking powder for baking soda (or vice versa, I can't remember). We didn't eat those muffins.

I'm actually famous in my family for the hand lotions I used to invent. Not in a good way though. (Can I get an Amen, Lisa?)

My brother Some would say that most of my ex-boyfriends were experiments gone wrong as well. Hey, at least I learned from them. Well, some of them.

But the other day, I got one right.

Yay me!

I have been trying to cook frugally, but deliciously lately. Fresh herbs are expensive to buy and no, I can't grow plants! I nearly killed my cactus.

I needed fresh mint in this recipe. Sometimes I'll substitute another dried herb if I don't have it on hand, but this time I really felt the recipe needed the mint to complete the flavour. So I replaced some of the water in the recipe with strongly brewed mint tea. And it WORKED!

I may have turned the corner on my history of bad experiments...

...or not. Time will tell.

The girls are back in business!

Welcome back :)

You'll be happy to hear that my plugged duct has cleared up and fortunately didn't develop into anything more serious. Even though I went through some duct trouble with KK, I was a little nervous this time because it wasn't clearing up very easily and it hurt so bad. When I had duct trouble with KK, it was easy to deal with because given the opportunity, KK would have breastfed for 21 months straight, regardless of whether milk was coming out or not. JJ on the other hand, can't be encouraged to feed more often and after a couple minutes, he's done and in goes the thumb. So the dang thing took a lot longer to clear.

I felt it was appropriate for JJ to wear this shirt, considering all the boob work that was going on in the last few days.


As advised by my friends, I tried feeding JJ by dangling over him and it worked really well. Then KK came in to see what I was doing and the look on her face, seeing me in that position, was some kind of combination of complete horror and shock. I swear she thought I was trying to smother him.

Thanks for waiting around for me to get things cleared up. I should be back to my funny self (if that's what you think I am) by tomorrow :)

TMI: Plumbing trouble

(A note to my two three male readers: this one's for the ladies... so SCRAM!)

(You boys still here? Well, consider yourself warned!)

Ok ladies (and my persistent male readers), I've got some plumbing issues. Y'all, I've got a plugged duct. A massively plugged duct. You know, in one of the "girls". And while I don't mind being perky again, it is only a one-sided thing, so the perkiness is really just showing off the un-perkiness of the other girl.

Oh, and did I mention that I'm packing around an extra 3 lbs of water? Yeah, that's thanks to a little hormonally-driven water retention (Seriously Dad, I warned you!) So it extra hurts.

Why am I divulging this information to the bloggy world? I'm going to have to take a couple days off. This duct unplugging business is a time consuming matter. I got some great tips from my facebook friends, so the next couple days will find me dipping her in a bowl of hot water, and dangling her "unelegantly" over my son, trying to get gravity to help. Oh and breastfeeding, lots of breastfeeding.

So I will meet you back in a few days, shall we say Wednesday at 7 am sharp?

See you then!