Well I am 18 weeks prego today and it’s been pretty boring. I am starting to get the, “you are defiantly pregnant” comments now which is reassuring. It means I don’t look fat anymore. I found out Brian and I were pregnant while I was student teaching and was praying over and over to not get sick and low and behold, it was a fairly uneventful 1st trimester. I kept hearing these horror stories of women that would be puking 3-5 times a day and couldn’t gain weight, but I had no issues with that. Especially the gaining weight part. There were a few days were I was sure I would vomit, but I have this problem of not being able to throw up. I would be a terrible bulimic. At times I wish I could, but thankfully that only happened maybe 3 times during the first trimester. We found out we were having a boy about a month ago and Brian was overjoyed. We had our big ultrasound yesterday and it’s still a boy and he is doing superb. Growing like a champ and kicking like an all-star soccer player. It was really weird to see because he is to the stage now where you can see his fingers and toes and for some reason that really got to me. He starting sucking his thumb and you could see his face. His face really got to me too because I know he is in there, but to actually see him, that was unbelievable.
After our appointment, we went home and I was doing laundry while the tv was on. There was this chick that was doing unimaginable things to earn money, while she was prego and continued to do after she was prego. She kept saying she does these things for her child, but all I could think about is how in the world someone gets that selfish that they are incapable of providing and thinking of their child first. I am not even a mother yet and I was getting irate about it. I told Brian to turn it off because it was making me sick to see her sit and brag about what a great mom she was when in reality, there was no responsibility in that women’s blood.
On Mother’s day we spoke to Max. Next time we speak, it will be face to face and I am having a hard time waiting. It’s amazing how you can go so long with out speaking to someone and when you finally do, it’s as if no time has past. I have friends like that, but this was even more different with my brother. First 3 minutes on the phone, we were laughing and cracking up and he didn’t even know what we were talking about. We answered the phone o-lo (if you have seen Megamind, you will get it) and he replied it’s hola. We then had to explain it to him. Then out of now where, cause he was in another room, Brian came in and realized Max was on the phone and shouted across the room O-LO! Haha it was so funny. We have made movie and music lists for him. It will be so fun to have him home. One fast Sunday left.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
10,080 minutes
I am finished with school. I am back to working full time. No more distractions. I am pregnant. I cry. Mainly just when I watch Grey’s Anatomy. I just wrote one incomplete sentence and five stupid sentences.
As I gradually approach the tall locked container, my heart jumps a beat with anticipation. Will today be the day? Probably not. Maybe. With a turn of the key, I see garbage. Crap. Useless rubbish. Credit card applications and ads. I slam the tiny door shut, turn the key and bolt back into my car and turn up the radio. Disappointment.
This sense of false hope continues for 1 week…. 7 days…… 168 Hours….. 10,080 minutes. Then it ends. In complete forgetfulness, I maintain the routine. Leave the garage 1 minute early, check the box, slam it shut and drive off to work. Then it pays off. It lays unaccompanied, concealed by the shadows present as if Hedwig was trying to mask it. One single envelope. That’s it. No garbage. I seize the article, see the addresser and jump in my car. It lays, undisturbed, unopened, unread in my purse. Then it starts. The tears. The same tears that I can’t control. I am 6 minutes from work and I can’t compose myself. What the hell is the matter with me? I have received a dozen of these before. Why now? I don’t even know the contents. This shouldn’t be happening. It gets worse. Images of Harry Potter and Power Rangers encompass my temporal lobe.
I create instances that haven’t happened yet. Escalators, balloons, posters, tissues, hugs and tears. I didn’t cry 22 months ago when we had this same occurrence. Why should this be so unusual different. I don’t have distractions. That’s why. Nothing else to occupy my time then counting down the days, imaging how different life will be for all of us. How much closer the others have become. How the sisters can read each other’s thoughts and laugh at just the sight of one another. How the brother is grown and supportive. The husband and he are best friends. What will he be like? The same but different I know. I prepare. I try not to think about it. It’s impossible. The tear ducts are still in production. I haven’t even read the letter yet. I haven’t written in weeks. I can’t. I just need him home. Back. I talk to him on my birthday. He calls on mother’s day, but I am claiming he is calling on and for my birthday. 60 days left. 2 fast Sundays to go. 2 Dr. Appointments. One Les Mis. 2 graduations. 8 weeks. We have so much to catch up on. There are so many movies, shows and oh the music. The music. How will we ever catch up? 60 days left, the rest of our lives to catch up on the past 24 months. But it’s right. It’s been hard. I think the hardest on me. Mom will say differently but it’s sucked. More than anyone knows. Brian knows. But my little boy will look up to him. His uncle. His uncle that set the example first.
60 days
As I gradually approach the tall locked container, my heart jumps a beat with anticipation. Will today be the day? Probably not. Maybe. With a turn of the key, I see garbage. Crap. Useless rubbish. Credit card applications and ads. I slam the tiny door shut, turn the key and bolt back into my car and turn up the radio. Disappointment.
This sense of false hope continues for 1 week…. 7 days…… 168 Hours….. 10,080 minutes. Then it ends. In complete forgetfulness, I maintain the routine. Leave the garage 1 minute early, check the box, slam it shut and drive off to work. Then it pays off. It lays unaccompanied, concealed by the shadows present as if Hedwig was trying to mask it. One single envelope. That’s it. No garbage. I seize the article, see the addresser and jump in my car. It lays, undisturbed, unopened, unread in my purse. Then it starts. The tears. The same tears that I can’t control. I am 6 minutes from work and I can’t compose myself. What the hell is the matter with me? I have received a dozen of these before. Why now? I don’t even know the contents. This shouldn’t be happening. It gets worse. Images of Harry Potter and Power Rangers encompass my temporal lobe.
I create instances that haven’t happened yet. Escalators, balloons, posters, tissues, hugs and tears. I didn’t cry 22 months ago when we had this same occurrence. Why should this be so unusual different. I don’t have distractions. That’s why. Nothing else to occupy my time then counting down the days, imaging how different life will be for all of us. How much closer the others have become. How the sisters can read each other’s thoughts and laugh at just the sight of one another. How the brother is grown and supportive. The husband and he are best friends. What will he be like? The same but different I know. I prepare. I try not to think about it. It’s impossible. The tear ducts are still in production. I haven’t even read the letter yet. I haven’t written in weeks. I can’t. I just need him home. Back. I talk to him on my birthday. He calls on mother’s day, but I am claiming he is calling on and for my birthday. 60 days left. 2 fast Sundays to go. 2 Dr. Appointments. One Les Mis. 2 graduations. 8 weeks. We have so much to catch up on. There are so many movies, shows and oh the music. The music. How will we ever catch up? 60 days left, the rest of our lives to catch up on the past 24 months. But it’s right. It’s been hard. I think the hardest on me. Mom will say differently but it’s sucked. More than anyone knows. Brian knows. But my little boy will look up to him. His uncle. His uncle that set the example first.
60 days
Saturday, March 19, 2011
MIA
It's been a crazy few months. Student teaching is coming to a steady yet not quick enough end and I am more than burnt out. I would be happy to just sit in a camp chair with my feet roasting by the fire, with the breeze of the mountains carrying its natural scent through my nostrils. I could stay there for weeks. I have not gotten a decent night’s sleep in 7 weeks. I have a constant sore throat from trying to speak loud in class. I am losing patience for 6th graders. I feel like a rock star when I pass my 1st graders. I am ready to be done. I am taking a year off. Two reasons. I have been doing school for 18 years straight. I don’t enjoy it like I use to. I find it monotonous and filled with fiery hoops that I am forced to jump through, while paying an arm and a leg, just to earn that piece of paper. I know, it’s not just a piece of paper, its proof of my eternal posing agony that I have endured through for 5 years. It will be worth it, but I just want it to be over with. 2nd reason. Brian and I are having a little Wiser of our own. If you want more, go to my baby blog. It’s private so send me your email and I will invite you. So other than that, I am pretty ecstatic for the rest of this year. It’s gonna be a big one. My brother comes home from the desolate lands of Uruguay, my other bro graduates high school, my sis is now 16 so we can all do quad dates together and my parents are taking us to see LES MIS in MAY Holla!!!! Should be fun. I am hoping to get into more of a routine here soon cause my education is coming to an end. Wish me luck.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A year of knowns, and unknowns
Well it’s a new year and one filled with exciting expectations. Eric, will graduate from high school. I will finish my Bachelors. Max comes home this year. Emily turns 16. Brian turns 25. My grandparents are going on a mission, and we have a few baptisms to look forward to this year. But for now, all that seems like an eternity away. I started my student teaching experience this week, and am finding that 1st grade is extremely difficult. I am doing a 6 week stint in 1st grade and another 6 week run in 6th grade, so I will have the joyous experience to experience both extremes. I am so glad I am doing 1st grade first though. It would be so hard to go from older students then teach younger ones. There about a bizzilion transition and their attention span is about 20 minutes long. By the end of the day, I am completely exhausted and I don’t even teach the whole day yet. Luckily, I have a wonderful teacher that is so supportive and has so many great ideas for me. She makes sure I know what’s going on, and gives me many opportunities to step in and do more teacher things. It will be interesting to see how this semester goes, but I keep telling myself, 3 months! I am almost there. After doing this stupid schooling for 5 years, I am sort of getting burnt out. I am trying to decide if I should take a break after I graduate, or if I should just go out and get a job. I should be able to get a pretty good one at Bates, where I am at now; I am the only student teacher there that will be in need of a job. The other woman there already has an offer at a different school, so that would be grand. Plus the school is the top elementary in the district. It’s wonderful. Best option would be to find a part time teaching gig somewhere. I don’t know what will happen in a few months, but I am looking forward to it with excited anticipation. Hope all goes well. Wish me luck.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Girls Night Out....Inside
My adorable cousin Annabelle is a girl. A girly girl. She is 7. I am 3 times her age….right? 7 X 3 is almost 22. She wanted to sleep over, so I sporadically threw together a girls night. Living with four brothers must be challenging for her, but she has a wonderful mom that pampers and makes her feel like a girl should feel…..I was never like that. So we started to plan our night at my kitchen table. We came up with pizza for dinner….we were ravished! Then from there we proceeded to make a gingerbread house, complete with a ladder for the elves to climb to assist in putting up the lights. There were icicles, trees, doors, a stone path way and all detained together with pink frosting. It was a Disney castle in a cloud….Les Mis…oh how I love thee…
From there we ventured up stairs to the warmer area of the house and decided to have a Make Up Over. We weren’t allowed to peak at what the other was prepping to beautify the other with, but if I could say so, I may be looking at cosmetology if this teaching gig doesn’t work out….he he. I looked makeuped up and she looked ravishing….as I think about it more, it may have more to do with her natural beauty then my face painting, but I can dream. The fingers were next. It’s Christmas time; we of course had to use Green and Red. After I had finished her itty bitty, teeny tiny, way too difficult to paint nicely, nails, she started mine….only to tell me that she has never done this before! Yippee! There was no paint on the carpet or all over our hands so regardless of the state of our nails, I would say it was a success.
On to the board game. I don’t get to play many bored games in my house, Brian says they are called board games because they are boring, but I tend to differ immensely. We decided Sorry was the game for us that evening. As time went on, I learned that my 7 year old cousin is a stealthy, knowledgeable Sorry player. We decided to put a wager to the game. I know, I start them young, but our wager was the vanilla frosting lip-gloss we had purchased at the store hours prior….obviously I was planning on giving it to her anyway, but now that she knew what was on the line, she was playing with no mercy. She was remarkable. I enjoyed it more as a teachers stand point. Nerd I know. The way she knew how to add, subtract, we even were dividing….secretly of course, but she was a killa! First game was fun. She won. Second game, I won. 3rd game….I don’t think she wanted to wait to win any longer. She had to hide the lip-gloss so she could concentrate, and decided I was being way to slow, so played both our parts and gave me the glorious, continual shuffler position. It’s elite. The game was over. She had one….which apparently she continuously does at her abode….blah. We then had a medal ceremony in which I, in discreet humiliation, had to present her with the well deserved award.
The night had run long, I am getting older, and I think I gave her too much sugar. She wanted one more activity, so we rummaged around in my closet for something to do. I found my colored duck tape and the next 40 minutes were spent making beautiful roses, which were finished with a spritz of my perfume to add for the full effect.
It now was time for bed. She brushed her teeth, laid out her pillows, had my lay her blankets in a certain order, left the door partially ajar, and went to sleep. Fun night, kind of makes me want a girl. She was so sweet and fun to play with.
Bucket List
There are a few things I want to achieve in my mortal life before it’s over. Some I may or may not be able to accomplish, but I am a heavy believer in setting goals. If we don’t have goals, we live each day, without a purpose. Even if our goal for that day is to make it through, then that is a goal and gives you a reason. That sounded a little run together so I am going to proceed with my list of goals, with a mark next to them if they have been accomplished. I also have decided, since I do not keep a journal…I know, I know, I am going to hell for it, that I am going to publish my blog each year in a book. That sort of counts like a journal right? Well who cares, it’s for me, not for you.
Go to Spain.
Go Sky diving. X
Finish College.
Get my masters degree.
Become a mother.
Run a marathon.
Compete in a triathlon.
Learn to play an instrument, preferable the piano.
Own my own library.
Be a librarian. The hot kind.
Go to an NFL football game, preferably the Patriots.
Meet Mia Hamm.
Learn to Ice Skate backwards.
Stay up for 24 hours.
Go on a trek.
Own a cabin.
Shoot something with my bow.
Sleep in a snow cave.
Write a children’s book. X
Move out of Utah for a while.
Win a drawing with a cash prize.
Survive student teaching.
Learn to like broccoli….this may never happen.
Learn to sew.
Own a motorcycle.
Finish Les Miserables.
Get married in the temple. X
Learn to be crafty.
Speak another language.
Kind of dumb to end on number 29 right? Well if you have more to add, then do it. It’s too late for me to think of anymore so I will add them as time goes on. Thanks and good night.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Sisters
I glance briefly at my phones screen. 1 missed call. 4 missed texts. I guess I should head home. My eyes wonder towards the clock. 2 A.M. Where did the time go?
The Ingram home.
It’s my 2nd home.
We have always been close. She is my older sister…well that’s how I consider her. When I was younger, I was her shadow…shadows don’t leave. Now that I am older, nothing has changed, except our relationship has grown even stronger. I tell her things I don’t mention to anyone else. Brian always has to tow me away from the doorframe when we babysit, otherwise we would talk into eternity. She has always been the one I have looked up to. Being the oldest child and grandchild, I only had my aunts and uncles to look up to.
Maybe it’s the closeness”ish” in age or that we both have similar personalities, but we have always had a connection. I have that bond with all of my aunts, but there is something different with Martha. We talk on a weekly basis and if I don’t visit their home in a timely manner it feels like eternity. Brian hasn’t ever had a deep relationship like I do with all my aunts and uncles so it took him some time to get acquainted to the style and closeness I share, but he was bewildered with Martha’s and my relationship. He soon was able to sneak into that shared rapport.
She is such a warm, hospitable person and wants to make sure everyone feels welcomed. I look at her life and all the stories and events she has been through growing up and today and marvel at her strength. I find myself comparing my life and future life to hers and hoping to emulate even a morsel aspect of her life in mine. I remember in the 2nd grade, I think it was the 2nd grade; we had to pick a person to bring to a presentation and show and tell that person to the class and all the other adults. I remember standing there, with Martha next to me, bragging about her to my whole class and giving her a picture and an essay I had written all about her. I felt like no one could one up me when it came to presenting my best friend.
Countless times I have been asked to hang out with friends, but I freely turn them down because I have either made a play date with her kids, or we were just hanging out. Out of all the characteristics I admire from Martha, the one that I truly hope to imitate is her child raising skills. She seriously needs to write a book. I can’t put it into words how much I respect her patience, though she doesn’t need much with her incredible children. I don’t know how she does it, or what she puts in her children’s food, but they know what NO is and what it means, and obedience soothes out of their pores. I may be exaggerating, but not much. Not much at all.
Ok, I lied there are other characteristics I appreciate, and one of the others, is her mature, fun, loving nature. She isn’t the aunt that lets you get away with anything you want. She isn’t the mean, strict aunt. She is the aunt that will take care of you without question, and have fun doing it. She is always excited to hear good news when you have it, and when you have a question or concern, her ears are open to listen and her advice is honest and caring.
The four years she was in Canada were terribly harsh. I don’t just mean the weather, but it was like my best friend had moved forever. If there comes a next time, Brian and I will be moving with her and her family. I couldn’t go without seeing her for that long again. Luckily for now, she lives just minutes from me. Hope it stays that way for a while. Love ya Martha!
The Ingram home.
It’s my 2nd home.
We have always been close. She is my older sister…well that’s how I consider her. When I was younger, I was her shadow…shadows don’t leave. Now that I am older, nothing has changed, except our relationship has grown even stronger. I tell her things I don’t mention to anyone else. Brian always has to tow me away from the doorframe when we babysit, otherwise we would talk into eternity. She has always been the one I have looked up to. Being the oldest child and grandchild, I only had my aunts and uncles to look up to.
Maybe it’s the closeness”ish” in age or that we both have similar personalities, but we have always had a connection. I have that bond with all of my aunts, but there is something different with Martha. We talk on a weekly basis and if I don’t visit their home in a timely manner it feels like eternity. Brian hasn’t ever had a deep relationship like I do with all my aunts and uncles so it took him some time to get acquainted to the style and closeness I share, but he was bewildered with Martha’s and my relationship. He soon was able to sneak into that shared rapport.
She is such a warm, hospitable person and wants to make sure everyone feels welcomed. I look at her life and all the stories and events she has been through growing up and today and marvel at her strength. I find myself comparing my life and future life to hers and hoping to emulate even a morsel aspect of her life in mine. I remember in the 2nd grade, I think it was the 2nd grade; we had to pick a person to bring to a presentation and show and tell that person to the class and all the other adults. I remember standing there, with Martha next to me, bragging about her to my whole class and giving her a picture and an essay I had written all about her. I felt like no one could one up me when it came to presenting my best friend.
Countless times I have been asked to hang out with friends, but I freely turn them down because I have either made a play date with her kids, or we were just hanging out. Out of all the characteristics I admire from Martha, the one that I truly hope to imitate is her child raising skills. She seriously needs to write a book. I can’t put it into words how much I respect her patience, though she doesn’t need much with her incredible children. I don’t know how she does it, or what she puts in her children’s food, but they know what NO is and what it means, and obedience soothes out of their pores. I may be exaggerating, but not much. Not much at all.
Ok, I lied there are other characteristics I appreciate, and one of the others, is her mature, fun, loving nature. She isn’t the aunt that lets you get away with anything you want. She isn’t the mean, strict aunt. She is the aunt that will take care of you without question, and have fun doing it. She is always excited to hear good news when you have it, and when you have a question or concern, her ears are open to listen and her advice is honest and caring.
The four years she was in Canada were terribly harsh. I don’t just mean the weather, but it was like my best friend had moved forever. If there comes a next time, Brian and I will be moving with her and her family. I couldn’t go without seeing her for that long again. Luckily for now, she lives just minutes from me. Hope it stays that way for a while. Love ya Martha!
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