My biggest fear. . .

Yes. It's needles. Well, the dentist as well, but that will be covered another day. . .

They are both stupid fears. There is a term for it, but I don't remember. It means that I am afraid of something that I don't need to be. . . and I know it, but I can't stop myself.

My mom tells me I should be over it. I've had children - that doesn't just mean that I've given birth - it means lots of needles. Bloodwork, anesthesia, epidural, even a blood transfusion. And in the Navy? Shots are usually mandatory, and done in an assembly-line fashion. That's really hard for the nervous people! We stopped counting the number of TB tests . . . and I got vaccinated for Smallpox and Anthrax, and had a flu shot almost every year. . . And still I am afraid. I try not to be, because I know that people think it's stupid. And I don't want to be a 26-year-old hyperventilating (or crying) because I have to get a shot, or have blood drawn. Yes, it's really that bad - sometimes, not all the time. . . I don't think I ever cried over a shot on the ship. I procrastinated, and they knew I didn't want to do it . . . but I held back the tears.

Sometimes the anxiety starts a day in advance. On both occasions (shot or dentist) it has been a near-paralyzing fear. I have even canceled appointments because I just can't make myself go and face the fear. I'd rather appear to be flaky than to go and just get it over with.

Well, that's the back story. Moving on to current events, and the reason why I'm bringing it up now:

Friday I was supposed to have two injections; one vaccine and a regular injection (every 3 months) that is my birth control. Okay, let's be honest. I don't need birth control. There is no possibility of getting pregnant at this point in my life. I like not having a period. SO every three months I hem and haw, make myself go, and get the shot. Usually it's pretty easy to remind myself that it's only five minutes - and it lasts for three months. . .

So I was in my car, driving to the clinic. And I just didn't want to go. I left home very close to the last minute because of just not wanting to go. So I called my Mom. I was hoping for two things: one, that she would reassure me, and two, that maybe it would be okay to skip out on the vaccination. I love my Mom, but that day, she didn't help. She made me feel worse, really. When I got to the clinic, and was trying to check in, I had tears coming down my face. I was trying to breathe and get over it, and then the phone rang. Yes, it was Mom again: She told me to think about my boys. Think about not getting the vaccination, and then what would happen to those boys if something happened to me. Is it worth it to avoid a little anxiety and a few minutes of pain? That was it. I didn't really have time (or the ability) to thank her, because she was gone. . . Well, I wouldn't have thanked her anyway. I would have been sarcastic. . . . and her comments made me cry even more. Because I know that my fear is not logical. But I can't just turn it off, even when it doesn't make sense to me.

So there I was, trying to compose myself. . . and then doing the mini - interview and vital signs. I lost three more pounds, by the way. None of the weight I have lost shows, but for now the numbers make me feel like I am making progress. Anyway, back to the point. I was really trying to compose myself. I was embarrassed.

I had my interview with the medical student, and yes, we talked extensively about my anxieties. The doctor came in, concerned, but willing to postpone one or both injections. I agreed to go through with both. I don't want to be a flake, or a wuss. And I felt bad for wasting their time and embarrassed about my anxieties to everyone.

The doctor and nurse went to get the injections ready. Then they came in, one on each side of me. I drew the line. I might be able to get through this without completely freaking out, but I will not be attacked from both sides! I don't think I used the word attacked, but it was something like that. So the doctor sat in front of me, talking about my book. I was reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. . . I've been reading up to get ready for the movie to come out. So there we were, just having a conversation, and there's a nurse on one side, a med student on the other, both with a syringe aimed at my arm. It took so much will not to look, or scream. They went one at a time so I wasn't bombarded, and then I just laid back for a while as the anxiety subsided and my headache pounded. It's really exhausting having to go through such emotion. . . whether it's depression, anxiety, even anger. They make me tired.

I did it, though. I'm not proud of the way that I acted, but I am proud of myself for not completely breaking down. I didn't cancel, and I didn't leave. I don't know what will happen in three more months. . . or when it's time for the second round of the vaccine. I don't think that I'll get over this by then, but maybe I'll be able to embarrass myself a little less. . . Maybe I'll let them say I have "situational anxiety". . . but I don't know whether therapy would help in this situation.

So, tell me, please. Does this happen to anyone else? Is it completely irrational, or can you understand my fears? Can you look away and take it, or do they make you nervous, too? I really don't want to be alone in this.

Well, I guess that's it for now. Until next time.

~ J

Thoughts on a Birthday. . .

Yes, a birthday. For those of you who don't know, it was mine. Until it actually happened, I wasn't very excited about it. I am, as you know, a single mom. Anything for me comes last. This includes the food that I like, clothes I need to wear, and time to myself. I feel guilty for wanting and needing these things. (Will go into this later) On top of this, the boys just had their birthdays not that long ago. Along with the fact that we are still moving in, are short of money, and I don't have many close friends in the area, All of these things made me think that my birthday was going to be (and should be) no big deal.

I was going to let it come and go without a big production. That was okay with me. It wasn't until Friday that I realized that it did matter to those around me - and I was really really excited!

Friday was a day off, due to the coming holiday. We spent the morning being lazy here at home. Around midday I realized that I wanted to do something. We had to get out. I packed a bag and loaded the kids in the car. We grabbed some fast food, and headed toward M and D's new place. We went swimming, joined by an old friend. She was my best friend through High School - in fact, the closest friend from "back then" that I still have. After visiting a while and checking out M & D's new place, we decided it was time to go . . . and go out. Because of being in the Navy, J hasn't spent one of my birthdays with me in years. And she was excited. It made me excited. So off we went. And had a blast! Almost as much fun - or more - than the kids. It's not very often that I get to let loose, and have fun - either with them, or with someone my own age - so that in itself was a great gift! When she brought us back home afterward, I decided to show her one of my favorite knick-knacks, which she gave me for my birthday ten years ago. Hard to believe it's been that long, really. So that was Friday - birthday number one.

Saturday was my Grandpa's 90th birthday, and the holiday, and Sunday we had to try to wind down and get ready for the week. My grandparents (M's mom and dad) took us to dinner on Sunday night (went mostly good) which was a surprise, but very enjoyable. Birthday number two.

Monday was my actual birthday. As I said, I don't have a lot of friends. And because of the state of the house, there is no way I would invite anyone over. . . But I still wanted to do something. So I baked cupcakes. I decorated them all differently with sprinkles and happy faces, and took them to school with me. I shared them, and some apples, with my classmates. After school (1100) I took myself - and a book - out to lunch. Dinner was nothing special; M and I decided that it had been too long a weekend to have another big event so soon. The boys were a little disappointed that we were just eating frozen dinners (they picked them out at the store, which is usually exciting) and had no cake. I told them that it was still my birthday, but we weren't going to have a special dinner until the next day when M & D could come. Bedtime did not go very well that night. Some days it does, some days it does not. I haven't quite figured it out yet. But even with their antics, I still spent some time on the computer. I had lots of well-wishes from family and friends. . . even old friends that I am not often in touch with. It made me feel very special. I went to bed late that night, but happy. Birthday number three.

Tuesday I got out of school and called M. She had told me she was coming here, and wanted to take me shopping. She wouldn't say why, just something she wanted me to have. I've just moved. I have a lot - almost all of it I hadn't seen in nearly a year. What else could she want me to have? I was puzzled. Until we got in the car and she told me. I haven't worn a watch in years. I use my cell phone to tell me what time it is. Even on the ship I didn't wear a watch - I went by the ship's bells, which can sometimes be bad. I was touched that she would think of something like that. And let me pick it out. Watches aren't like candles or books. Every one is different. . . and it seems that I am pickier than most. I am very happy with it, and can hardly believe that my wrist has been so long without a watch! It feels like it was made to be there. A picture of it will have to come soon, I think. Not to brag about what I got, but just because it has made me feel good. Usually I just am. Very few things make me feel good about myself - and even fewer things make me feel pretty or feminine. This watch happens to be one of those few things. That is why I will share it, as soon as I can. . . . . So, once the watch was picked out, it was time to go. We picked up the boys -- who were so happy to see their Grandma there. It was sweet. Anywhoo, we went to the restaurant, and once D got there, we had a very nice dinner. M & D both chose not to come back to the house for cake, but I had promised it to the boys. So I frosted it, then they sang for me (so cute!) and we ate birthday cake. . . . it was from a box, but I still made it myself, and it was good! Birthday number four.

After all of that, I really did feel it. That thing you're supposed to feel on a birthday. . . when all those people come (even though mine were all at different times) and it's your time. Your day. I didn't think that I would get there, but the more that I saw that other people really did care. . . and wanted to see me happy and make me feel special, the more I felt it myself.

I guess Birthdays aren't just for kids, or for big parties. They're for me. Next year I'll remember. And I won't try to ignore it or pretend like it's not coming. I will embrace it, enjoy it, and be happy to be me.

Thanks for those of you who helped me feel special this week. Be sure and let me know when your birthday is. I will make sure you feel special, too.

** You know, there's a reason that I felt the way I did - not just stress and money issues. I usually feel guilty for taking something for myself - buying nice food, getting new clothes, etc. It's too late now, but I'm going to have to explore this topic further. **

Until next time,

~ J

Sick, or not?

Okay, Moms. Here's a question for you:

Have you ever sent your kid to school when they said they were sick?
Were they faking, or actually sick?

I learned a few months ago that my kids can play that card. They can even get manipulative.

So on Monday, when Z said he didn't feel good, I didn't believe him. It was Monday, and we had a good weekend. I was almost sure that he was just playing me. They both say quite often that they don't want to go to school. . . and as early as Tuesday, they begin asking me whether or not it is Friday!

So I dismissed his whining and his cough. I thought it was just because he was tired. His asthma is much more mild than J's, but in both of my boys it presents as a cough. It is worse when they are tired, upset, or playing hard. It's Finals week at school for me. Not that they know what that means, but it's important. So off we went.

No one ever calls my cell phone. Really. The very few people who do don't call when I'm in school. So I was very surprised when the thing started vibrating in my scrub pocket, only an hour in to class! And, yes, Caller ID informed me that it was the preschool. I was told that Z was laying down on the couch. . . with a 102 fever. Oh, great. But I'm only a half-mile away, so I'll be right there!

So, of course I collected him, and took him home. He drank some juice and watched a movie in my chair, ate JellO for lunch, and went to bed. All morning while he was hanging around, I was studying and reading. . . feeling so guilty. He really didn't feel good. And I ignored him and sent him to school.

Because he was "sick" on Monday, Z could not go to school on Tuesday. So M had to come and stay with him so I could go. I am proud of my perfect attendance, and plan on keeping it. . .

But his fever broke while he was napping on Monday. He had Tylenol and a cough medicine on Tuesday morning. By the time I got home from school, there was nothing wrong with him! He was bouncing off the walls. . . didn't take a nap that day, either, and by the end of the day he was driving me nuts! Sick? No. I don't think so.

He's fine now. We all went to school this morning -- and miraculously, no one was late. . . even though I woke up 45 minutes late! I'm kinda proud I got us all out the door. . . A little tired, a little grumpy, but no one said "I don't feel good."

What a difference a day makes! I think I'm still more inclined to take him to school no matter what . . . but we will have to see. It's tough when a kid can't tell you symptoms. Even when he really is sick, all he says is "I feel yucky". They don't understand that I need more information, or I don't believe it!

It's easier when they're in a real school, right?
If it's not, please don't tell me yet!

I just get up every morning and get ready. When I wake up JR and Z, I will cross my fingers and hope that neither of them will pull out the "I don't feel good" card. I have learned that when it's true, it makes for a looong two days!

Let's not repeat them any time soon, okay?

~ J

Heat. . . and work!

The Heat is On . . . . .
(cue music - and a flashback)

Oh, yes. The heat is here. This weekend, it was definitely on!

Hmm, Saturday. It's been so long, I have to wonder what we did! Oh, that's right. I guess I already vented about Saturday's events. So I'll move on to Sunday.

Well, we knew it was going to be hot. But there was work to do. . . So we planned to get started early. No problem, right? I get up early. Apparently not early enough. I woke up at 7. I got to the hallway to see the doors both open. . . What? Why are my doors open? I walked out, and there was Dad. Sitting on the front porch with the newspaper. I will mention here that his new house is 40 minutes away - maybe 30 with his driving. . . . It was warm in the house, as it always is overnight. It was barely cooler outside.

I am grateful to have this house to myself now, but it is taking a lot of work, and a lot of adjusting. I used to live in a 3-bedroom house. Yes, it was wonderful. I miss it, but when you get out of the military, you have to leave military housing. . . . Well, this house was full. I loved it. I had a master suite. . . The boys had their own bedrooms. . . a living room, and a large play area that was separate but still a part of the "great" room downstairs. All of this room equals a lot of stuff. Much of it is stuff that we don't have room for any more. And we also had some junk. Junk that needed to go away. I have a small car, so here came dad to the rescue. We put the first load of crap in, and off he went.

Z woke up first, crying. He told me that he was sad, and he wanted his Grandpa. (The boys did not know that he was coming) So I carried him to the kitchen and nudged him out the front door. "What?" Then he looked on the porch and saw his Grandpa sitting there. He was so excited. It was very sweet to hear his reaction and watch him just leap into Grandpa. Well, after Dad left, we got started with the day. JR and Z ate the breakfast that Grandpa brought. Eclairs . . . he had told the boys that they are like donuts with chocolate on top and "magic in the middle". Then Z got dressed and ready. He woke up first, and really wanted to be Grandpa's sidekick. . . So when he came back, Z was ready to go to the dump. Not my idea of an adventure, but they love their Grandpa -- and he drives a truck!

While they were gone, J and I cleaned up. Then he played and I unpacked the last three boxes! Yay! They were all tools and garage -type stuff. . . but still. It means that I have all my stuff! The task that continues is finding somewhere to put it, and getting rid of that which we don't need -- excess linens, outgrown toys and clothes. . . The sorting is a long process, and one that I'm not particularly enjoying.

All morning long, I was logged on to my laptop. Every so often I woke it up and checked the "weatherbug". I just watched the temp go up and up and up. I felt bad for D doing so much work and driving around all morning. That's why I kept on working while he was gone each time. . . And told him that we would "cool off" when the work was done. So when D and Z came back, D took JR for an adventure. He couldn't be left out. . . especially now that they only see him once in a while. Z was ready for more fun. We got lunch packed and ready, and got in our suits. And waited. We were headed to the pool. We all had PB&J, pretzels and a drink for lunch. I felt bad that I didn't have something better to give my dad after so much work, but he was a good sport. The boys got gogurt with their lunch. . . and then we all hopped in the pool. It was fun. A nice cap to a day of productive work. D went home, and I put the boys to bed for a nap. JR is growing out of them, but on certain days - like when it's hot, or we're doing work / exercising, a nap is still needed.

The rest of the day was spent inside. I worked, yes, organized and studied. . . and watched the temp go up and up and up. All the way to 108*. . . Really? We were not ready for that! I also decided, in all that heat, that it was a day not to really cook dinner. There was no way I was going to prep and cook - especially turn on the oven! - and heat the house up again . . . so I made some pasta-roni, and put canned chicken into it. It was quick, easy, and really good, except that no one ate it but me!

Oh, yes. That's another issue. The whole not-eating thing. We'll have to come back to that another day. I don't really aim to cook food that the boys won't eat. . . I'm cooking good food. Z is just really picky. . .

Work, work, work. I'm always working, but it's never done. That's every mom's story, though. It is what it is. For tonight, my work is done. The boys are washed and in bed, and the dishes are clean. Surprisingly, even the toys are put away. I have two loads ready for donation, and a nice to-do list for tomorrow. It might all get done. . . or it might become "rollover" work.

We shall see. . . .

Until then,

~ J