So the title sounds a little questionable, right? What follows are things that I've been thinking about for the past week or so...
I mentioned in a previous blog that Nathan and I took the kids to Rainforest Cafe last weekend. (At least, I think I did!) While we were waiting in line to put our name in, I was listening to the two teenage girls that were standing right behind us, talking quite loudly. All of a sudden, one of them said "Oh, they're such a weird couple! Look! A black girl with a hot white guy," to which her friend replied "Well, I guess if you're into that kind of thing..." I was honestly stunned. Do people really still think that way? Is it really that big of a deal to Americans to see a biracial couple out and about, considering all Americans are such melting pots of ethnicity and race? Is the pigment of our skin still what defines us? I guess I was so taken aback because I feel like our culture has made such strides in so many areas that it's shocking to me to hear this backwards thinking. No one bats an eye when a brunette woman is with a blond man (a la Nathan and myself), so why is it so odd and so strange and so necessary to make comments about a black woman and a white man, or an Indian man and a white woman, or an Asian woman and a Hispanic man, or any other ethnic mixture of coupledom? To judge someone simply because their eye shape is different than "normal" or their hair or skin or dress or cultures are opposite is simply unnecessary and offensive. Isn't it? Am I wrong for being irritated? I guess it somehow goes back to the fact that I grew up in a very upper-middle class/upper class WASP area and I'm half Mexican. While I don't look fresh out of the water (my father swam here- literally), I don't look "white" either. I have olive skin, hazel green eyes, dark brown hair with natural red/copper highlights, I don't burn (I tan hardcore), and in the summer, if I'm a pool lizard and lounge around all day, my skin gets so dark that I've been told I look "Afro-Cuban," especially in pictures. (My first license picture was a perfect example.) So while I don't identify with being a minor in the "minority," I can relate to being a social minority. In fact, I started working for Starbucks when I was sixteen, in this same WASPy town. My third store was right down the street from a middle school, and let me put it this way: we had kids regularly purchasing frappuccinos with $50s. It was ridiculous, and they were heinously rude. We had to have on-duty police officers bouncing both entrances to the store every day after school and only allowing two kids in at a time because they'd wreak havoc on the place otherwise. I actually had a kid, who's older siblings I knew from school, make the asshole comment to me: "Oh you're Becca Salazar? You're Mexican right? So that's your family mowing my lawn? Stupid spick." I was mortified. Especially since I was on friendly terms with this kid's older siblings. Plus, who the hell allows their 12-14 year old to speak that way to other people?! The fact that that was acceptable to say just blew me away. It got even worse on the day that I was working with Joel, my assistant manager (who was half Chinese), and Saam (who was Middle Eastern). We had another of this lovely, ignorant bunch of kids come in and say "Check it out! We have the spick, the chink, and the sand nigger on the floor today. It must be my lucky day." Little did this particular little hooligan know that Joel was a black belt in a martial art (who's name alludes me because it was cray cray!) and that I was working toward my second degree black belt in taekwondo. It took everything we had to not jump the counter and unleash the fury. The cops were awesome though- I knew 3/4 of all the local departments from being a D.A.R.E. role model, so they were really protective of me. It was nice to know that the police had your back and would remove any unfavorable "situations" from the store.
So, with that as the basis for my argument, it's no wonder I was so inflamed over the comments exchanged between these two girls.
To go along with that quasi-rant (sorry!), I don't understand who thinks that they have the right to judge others based on their own personal assumptions. And that applies to a plethora of situations that I've heard of/encountered recently. Case in point: Nathan just got out of the shower and came to sit down by me on the couch. He reached for his Pepsi (gross), and thought it felt lighter. So, he looks at me, gives me the wonky eye (looks something like this ---> oO) and says "You drank some of this, didn't you? It's okay- I still love you." Punk.
Honestly though, I really don't get it.
It's the same kind of conversation I get into with my friends who are atheists. I have several, and they seem to fall into two categories: the angry and the, um, not angry. (Original, I know.) One of said friends and I can have totally civil conversations, despite our agreeance to agree to disagree. She brings up some very intriguing points from a scientific perspective and her main argument is that science will never prove faith or the existence of God. And it won't. I agree. I don't judge her despite my disagreeing with her viewpoint. It's not my place. People believe different things, and as long as you aren't hurting anyone, I'm okay with that. However, my angry atheist friend is, in a nutshell, my oldest friend. We've known each other since he was in 6th grade and I was in 7th, and we dated on and off for five years. Aside from Nate, he knows me better than anyone else on earth, and I can always talk to him about anything and everything... except matters of faith. It's ironic because we met at church, we went through youth group together, on mission trips together, he went to a Christian high school, we used to pray together. We thought that we'd be each other's "first" and, along with that, that we'd get married. We've been there through deaths of family members, other friends falling away, relationship issues, life changes. He is, after Nate, my best friend. But our lives went in vastly different directions, spiritually speaking. Recently, I texted him late at night while I was up writing a paper and frustrated. Nathan was sawing logs in the bedroom, so I couldn't bounce my ideas off of him. The class I was writing a paper for was Women in Biblical Literature, so I guess I should've known better than to text said friend, but I did anyway. We ended up getting into a faith v. non-faith conversation that started turning somewhat volatile in tone. He actually made the argument that "Religion is false, made up a long time ago by a bunch of people who were even dumber than we are today." I was a little shocked, and instead of taking such an aggressive stance, replied "All I know is that I need faith to get me through my life, one day at a time." And I got attacked and made to feel stupid because I said that. The bottom line is, I agree that religion is contradictory and can be incredibly hypocritical. WBC anyone? Those people are complete idiots- and I'm judging by what they've put out there of themselves, not blindly. And they are hurting other people by what they say/do. I agree that religion can be maddening and frustrating beyond belief, and the things that people extract from it to explain or use as their battle shield against the perceived social wrongs is despicable. But I'm not talking about religion. I'm talking faith. I'm talking about my belief that humanity did not form from random particles banging together after the big bang. I'm talking about how, through my life, there have been entirely too many good things and too many bad/sad things that I've endured (which have greatly impacted my life and made me a better person) for me to discount the idea that God is real. Through just living my life in the best way I know how, I've allowed myself to be open to all of the fears, all of the realities, and all of the joys that have been put in my path. I've learned through trust in something bigger than me that everything in life has a reason and purpose. While I may not understand the reason or purpose while I'm "in it," hindsight is 20/20, and I have no regrets. Everything is a learning experience, and I live by the Bible passage Proverbs 3:5-6: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all your ways, and He shall direct your path. I don't understand why the need is there for atheists to use science to try and convince me out of my faith. Is my faith hurting you? No. Is my faith affecting you in a negative manner? No. If you don't like my faith's existence or the fact that I have a belief system (and a very liberal one at that!), do me a favor and don't think about it. I believe that God and science can co-exist peacefully, and that, at the end of the day, they do. I won't preach at you all day and try to cram religion (or, more importantly, faith) down your throat if you promise not to shout at me that I'm stupid for believing that I'm never alone, that I have nothing to fear, and that I have peace in my soul because of it.
In my Modern and Contemporary Christian Thought class, there's a guy who goes off on massive tangents. He's the kind of guy who wants solid proof, no matter how big the digression or how far we are behind, of God's existence, of Jesus's historical presence, and of faith. The plain and simple truth is that God is not some big guy in the sky; He's everywhere and in everything. His miracles can be seen in the faces of every single child that comes into this life alive and healthy. Think about it. Maybe you won't be able to relate if you've never had children, but at each and every second of pregnancy, things can go wrong. Horribly wrong. I miscarried between Rhea and Trace, and I just had this inexplicable feeling from my positive test that something wasn't right. It was devastating to find out that I was right. I also lost a twin with Rhea at 7 weeks. Nothing will bring your own fragile life to light than when you become a parent or experience a miscarriage. And nothing will bring you more joy and awe than when you look into the precious rosy cheeked face of a newborn miracle. To know that the primal act of reproduction can create something so beautiful that you're at a loss for words is the work of something bigger than our own humanity. Jesus existed historically; there are records for that. And faith... faith is faith. Either you have it or you don't. Either you find it or you don't. Either you lose it or you don't. Faith is another tiny, more personal miracle. I say tiny because if you have it, it lives inside of you; it's embedded into your very core. It's the most personal relationship you can have, this connection with the heavenly realm. I pray every day, several times a day, and the only time I every consciously realize that I'm praying is at night when I reflect on my incredible blessings. Almost every other time, I realize it after the fact. After narrowly avoiding a collision, after watching Rhea and Trace share a really sweet brother/sister moment (he signed and said "love you" -"wuh ooo"- to her the other day), when my husband gets home and I get to see him for the first time at 6 pm, watching Nate play with our children- those are the times I send up a silent prayer of thanks and praise and realize immediately afterward that I said a little prayer. Not to sound like a Bible baby (which I am, but I promise- I keep it to a minimum!), but in my life, even when I want to ship my kids to Canada and California and send Nathan to the jungle without a compass, flashlight, or bug spray, my cup runneth over.
Now, I apologize if anything I've said in this entry irritated or offended anyone. I won't apologize for putting my beliefs out there and I definitely won't apologize for saying this: If everyone would look past their assumptions to avoid judgments, we'd be in a much better place. Who are we to judge each other? Who are we to look at people on the surface, assume what we assume, and then make a judgment, all the while knowing absolutely nothing about the inner workings of those people? No one can say what draws us to the people we love or are attracted to. No one knows the chemistry behind faith or where belief systems come from. Just because we may not agree does not mean that we need to fight or argue or become belligerent. Ignorance is not a valid defense. And neither is the phrase "Because the Bible said so." The Bible isn't meant as a substitute for having a conscience. Scripture isn't meant to be used as a weapon, isn't meant to slice and dice an opponent to ribbons because one person doesn't agree with another's actions/lifestyle. So, if anyone is reading this, what I'm really saying is that I hope we all can take a look at ourselves. We can all use a little tweaking in our thinking.
XoXo
Becca
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
A Little Backstory
So, Tuesday night was my Tio (uncle) Rogelio's birthday party. So ridiculously fun, filled with awesome food and awesome people I love. I couldn't help but think though, how blessed I am, all throughout the shindig. See, I wasn't part of that side of the family for a very long time and not by choice. My father decided to abandon me when I was 8 years old (after a very traumatic childhood up to that point). When he took himself out of the picture, he took his whole family away too. They didn't know how to get ahold of me, and I didn't know how to get ahold of them either. So for 13 plus years, I missed out on so much.
When Nathan and I moved to Tennessee for school, I contacted my father. That was in August. He was back out of my life by February, and again, so was my family. Thanks to Mark Zuckerburg and Facebook, I found my cousin about a year ago, and here we are! And no, I haven't seen or heard from my father at all... And apparently, my family is being 'banished' to radio blackout too.
Anyway, so it was so cool to see the many many relatives that I haven't seen since I was really little... And they were all playing with my kids! And hanging out with my hubby! Who is very very white, I might add. A total whiteypants in a room full of brown Mexicans, and Nate was just as Messican as they were! So cool. I should also add that my kiddies really showed their inner Mexican when selecting cards for my uncle. Rhea saw a card with two chihuahuas in party hats, drinking water out of a martini glass and went cray cray! Little did I know but that the card also sang "La Bamba!" She was attached to that for Tio. And Trace was screaming like I was nun-whipping his knuckles all throughout the store until he found a hot pink singing card. I'm talking HOT PINK. So he's freaking out because he wants the card, so I give it to him, at which point I'm delighted to hear it sings "Macarena." Hilarity ensued when neither child would close their cards throughout the entire store! Needless to say, my uncle got a kick out of them!
Ah crap... I just hit the proverbial wall, which means that my brain has ceased to make coherent thoughts. I wonder if it has something to do with the glass of wine that's sitting next to me, coupled with having been sick for the past almost 3 weeks...
On that note-
Klinger out!
When Nathan and I moved to Tennessee for school, I contacted my father. That was in August. He was back out of my life by February, and again, so was my family. Thanks to Mark Zuckerburg and Facebook, I found my cousin about a year ago, and here we are! And no, I haven't seen or heard from my father at all... And apparently, my family is being 'banished' to radio blackout too.
Anyway, so it was so cool to see the many many relatives that I haven't seen since I was really little... And they were all playing with my kids! And hanging out with my hubby! Who is very very white, I might add. A total whiteypants in a room full of brown Mexicans, and Nate was just as Messican as they were! So cool. I should also add that my kiddies really showed their inner Mexican when selecting cards for my uncle. Rhea saw a card with two chihuahuas in party hats, drinking water out of a martini glass and went cray cray! Little did I know but that the card also sang "La Bamba!" She was attached to that for Tio. And Trace was screaming like I was nun-whipping his knuckles all throughout the store until he found a hot pink singing card. I'm talking HOT PINK. So he's freaking out because he wants the card, so I give it to him, at which point I'm delighted to hear it sings "Macarena." Hilarity ensued when neither child would close their cards throughout the entire store! Needless to say, my uncle got a kick out of them!
Ah crap... I just hit the proverbial wall, which means that my brain has ceased to make coherent thoughts. I wonder if it has something to do with the glass of wine that's sitting next to me, coupled with having been sick for the past almost 3 weeks...
On that note-
Klinger out!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Hell Week and Wizards
Okay, the wizards part is just ridiculous. I happen to be watching Wizards of Waverly Place because that's what Rhea fell asleep watching and I can't find the remote. Why not add it into the title of the blog, right? Speaking of Wizards though, how cute are Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez? Yeah yeah, I know. I'm an old fogie to be a fan of The Bieb, let alone following what's up in the most famous 17 year-old in the world's love life, but since I have Princess Justin Bieber living with me, it's kind of hard not to. My thoughts on JB are that 1.) he's adorable 2.) if I was a 16 year old girl, I'd be daydreaming for days about Senor Bieb showing up in my casa and serenading me 3.) he's really a very talented musician. I know, I know. Boo hiss to me for revealing my inner teeny bopper, but dude, the kid knows how to rock it.
Moving on...
So last week was midterm mania. I had a midterm paper due on Tuesday, and what I fully anticipated to be the worst test of my LIFE on Thursday morning. The class: Women in Biblical Literature. The subject matter: I have no idea. I thought when I was signing up for the class that we were really studying the role of women in biblical literature. (Imagine that.) However, my prof is also apparently a Hebrew scholar, and frequently likes to reference "the original Hebrew text." Since the majority of us have either an English Standard Version study Bible or a New International study Bible, or some other variation, NONE of which have ORIGINAL HEBREW FOOTNOTES, it's turned into something completely different than what I thought it was going to be. Not only do we get original Hebrew translations, but we've also covered the Egyptian deities' family tree and mythology, as well as a plethora of other ridiculous unrelated things. Said professor really got her sass on when a guy in my class asked a question about predestination. While that completely related to the passage of Scripture that we were referring to and discussing, the 45 minute digression absolutely did not. And the *snap snap snap* attitude dished by the professor made me feel so bad for the poor guy. We somehow managed to end up at a certain species of birds' innate knowledge that migrating is necessary for survival of the species somehow being attempted to be correlated to predestination. *whew* So, needless to say, when I got the almost-full page, single spaced study guide, I had no idea what to make of it. But I did a little happy dance when I got done because it wasn't as difficult as I was anticipating. Actually, I'm pretty confident that I got no less than an A. *woop woop*
I had a nice chillax day planned for Friday when I got a frantic text from my mom at 7:45 am saying she thought she had to go to the ER. So, the kids and I ended up going and taking care of my mama (who has something called labrynthitis- a viral infection that's affecting her inner ear and is causing acute vertigo). She's fine, no ER required, but that woman is the WORST bedridden patient EVER in the history of mankind... including Nate when he gets a mancold! All day long, my phone blew up with calls from her about "How Dad must have taken the van on purpose because even though she was so dizzy she was about to throw up, she wanted to go look at some recliners for him for his birthday." There are so many things wrong with that statement, I wanted to *smack* her every time she said it. So, Mom, you've been awarded the *smack* of the day! *applause* *SMACK*
Anywho...
I've been battling bronchitis for the past 2 weeks, and it's making like Roberta Flack/Lauryn Hill and killing me softly. Or not so softly, if you ask Nate. I've been hacking up a lung like a veteran two-pack-a-dayer, and I h-a-t-e it. Plus, it's a double pain in my arse since I'm asthmatic and it's turn of the season. Balls. My doctor, as much as I heart her, is making me shake. Instead of hitting it hard with a Z-Pack right off the bat, we've been nancying around with steroids and now tylenol with codeine. For realsies?! I know what my body responds to, but instead of listening to me, I'm pretty confident in saying now that I also have a raging sinus infection on top of the other shenanigans. Boo. Hiss. Boo hiss. Sigh. Now I wait until Monday so I can call her and say "Woman! Have mercy!" (I'm not above begging.)
On another note, I was talking with my mil (for those of you who don't speak message boardlish, that's short for "mother-in-law") last week about how she takes a weekly yoga class. Since I can't do anything like my previously high-intensity, cardio martial arts/running/lifting regimen, I started thinking that maybe I could start looking at yoga/pilates (again on the pilates side of things). I used to use pilates as my filler on days that I couldn't get to the gym, and I always ached for days! It's amazing that even when you think you're in really great shape, you throw a new something into the mix and bam, you realize that you have whole sets of muscles that you don't ever hit. Long(er) story short(er), I am officially addicted to yoga and pilates. My body feels so much happier since I'm working it out and focusing on not just getting my heart rate up, but also what my muscles are doing in the process. It's pretty awesome. *happydance*
We took the kids to Rainforest Cafe tonight for dinner... we never go out as a family for sit-down dinners, and as much fun as it was, I was definitely stoked to get home. Trace was melting down left and right, Rhea was borderline massive tantrum, and we were getting the evil eye from the family at the tables next to us, all because Nate and I ordered cocktails. We're not big drinkers at all- well, Nate's a couple beers a week guy- but I usually don't drink that often. Every time I caught them kind of looking at us, I wanted to ask how their dinner was. ;o) Buuut, it made for an awkward elevator ride to the 2nd floor of the mall (we were trying to get the kids to burn off the rest of their energy) when we walked up to the elevator- which was huge- and they were right in front of us. (Wow- that was a really long sentence!) Luckily, we didn't see them after that, but yeah... super awkward thirty second ride.
So as I'm blogging, I'm watching "Say Yes to the Dress" and the Oprah Winfrey Network (*gag*) keeps running commercials for Vagisil. Why? And what is up with the friggin women in those commercials?! They either look ridiculously happy or like they're about to lose their minds. Does every woman run that gamut when their hooha isn't in a happy place? Ecstatically happy then in need of a straightjacket and rubber room? I bet men make those storyboards...
And Oprah. Cannot STAND this woman. Many many reasons why, but first and foremost, her conceitedness. Between her and Tyra, I want to reach through the tv anytime they're on it and fling Jello at them. Rant over. :o)
Can I just say that "Say Yes to the Dress" is one of my favorite shows? I remember how it felt to go looking for the first time for wedding dresses (5 weeks after I had Rhea!), and not only how much fun it was, but also that feeling when I put on "the" dress. My mom made me try on a sleeved dress that looked straight out of Medieval Times (just for shiz and giggles) and I still remember the sheer hideousness of that dress! We laughed sooo hard because it was white white (which completely washes me out), so I looked like the corpse bride, it weighed about 5,000 pounds, had wacky sleeves, and quite possibly the ugliest train I've ever seen. Then I put on my dress, and I swear I heard the "Hallelujah" chorus. I stepped up on the pedestal, under the lights, and heard "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" I loved that it made me look like a pinup girl, only 5 weeks post-baby, so I could only imagine what I'd look like when all the weight was off and I was back to being tightened up. I still have it in the closet and every now and then I think about putting it on and lounging around the house. I love that dress and if I could live in it, I would! So it's so fun to watch other women go through the fun shenanigans that wedding shopping entails. Hopefully we'll be able to take a honeymoon before we renew our vows!
Oh weddings... so much fun...
Anyway, on that note, I'm out for the night! Thanks for reading this long, ambling entry. I promise I'll keep up on it so I won't have to cram five days' worth of thoughts into one entry! *yawn* Be healthy, be well, be happy.
Nighty night!
Moving on...
So last week was midterm mania. I had a midterm paper due on Tuesday, and what I fully anticipated to be the worst test of my LIFE on Thursday morning. The class: Women in Biblical Literature. The subject matter: I have no idea. I thought when I was signing up for the class that we were really studying the role of women in biblical literature. (Imagine that.) However, my prof is also apparently a Hebrew scholar, and frequently likes to reference "the original Hebrew text." Since the majority of us have either an English Standard Version study Bible or a New International study Bible, or some other variation, NONE of which have ORIGINAL HEBREW FOOTNOTES, it's turned into something completely different than what I thought it was going to be. Not only do we get original Hebrew translations, but we've also covered the Egyptian deities' family tree and mythology, as well as a plethora of other ridiculous unrelated things. Said professor really got her sass on when a guy in my class asked a question about predestination. While that completely related to the passage of Scripture that we were referring to and discussing, the 45 minute digression absolutely did not. And the *snap snap snap* attitude dished by the professor made me feel so bad for the poor guy. We somehow managed to end up at a certain species of birds' innate knowledge that migrating is necessary for survival of the species somehow being attempted to be correlated to predestination. *whew* So, needless to say, when I got the almost-full page, single spaced study guide, I had no idea what to make of it. But I did a little happy dance when I got done because it wasn't as difficult as I was anticipating. Actually, I'm pretty confident that I got no less than an A. *woop woop*
I had a nice chillax day planned for Friday when I got a frantic text from my mom at 7:45 am saying she thought she had to go to the ER. So, the kids and I ended up going and taking care of my mama (who has something called labrynthitis- a viral infection that's affecting her inner ear and is causing acute vertigo). She's fine, no ER required, but that woman is the WORST bedridden patient EVER in the history of mankind... including Nate when he gets a mancold! All day long, my phone blew up with calls from her about "How Dad must have taken the van on purpose because even though she was so dizzy she was about to throw up, she wanted to go look at some recliners for him for his birthday." There are so many things wrong with that statement, I wanted to *smack* her every time she said it. So, Mom, you've been awarded the *smack* of the day! *applause* *SMACK*
Anywho...
I've been battling bronchitis for the past 2 weeks, and it's making like Roberta Flack/Lauryn Hill and killing me softly. Or not so softly, if you ask Nate. I've been hacking up a lung like a veteran two-pack-a-dayer, and I h-a-t-e it. Plus, it's a double pain in my arse since I'm asthmatic and it's turn of the season. Balls. My doctor, as much as I heart her, is making me shake. Instead of hitting it hard with a Z-Pack right off the bat, we've been nancying around with steroids and now tylenol with codeine. For realsies?! I know what my body responds to, but instead of listening to me, I'm pretty confident in saying now that I also have a raging sinus infection on top of the other shenanigans. Boo. Hiss. Boo hiss. Sigh. Now I wait until Monday so I can call her and say "Woman! Have mercy!" (I'm not above begging.)
On another note, I was talking with my mil (for those of you who don't speak message boardlish, that's short for "mother-in-law") last week about how she takes a weekly yoga class. Since I can't do anything like my previously high-intensity, cardio martial arts/running/lifting regimen, I started thinking that maybe I could start looking at yoga/pilates (again on the pilates side of things). I used to use pilates as my filler on days that I couldn't get to the gym, and I always ached for days! It's amazing that even when you think you're in really great shape, you throw a new something into the mix and bam, you realize that you have whole sets of muscles that you don't ever hit. Long(er) story short(er), I am officially addicted to yoga and pilates. My body feels so much happier since I'm working it out and focusing on not just getting my heart rate up, but also what my muscles are doing in the process. It's pretty awesome. *happydance*
We took the kids to Rainforest Cafe tonight for dinner... we never go out as a family for sit-down dinners, and as much fun as it was, I was definitely stoked to get home. Trace was melting down left and right, Rhea was borderline massive tantrum, and we were getting the evil eye from the family at the tables next to us, all because Nate and I ordered cocktails. We're not big drinkers at all- well, Nate's a couple beers a week guy- but I usually don't drink that often. Every time I caught them kind of looking at us, I wanted to ask how their dinner was. ;o) Buuut, it made for an awkward elevator ride to the 2nd floor of the mall (we were trying to get the kids to burn off the rest of their energy) when we walked up to the elevator- which was huge- and they were right in front of us. (Wow- that was a really long sentence!) Luckily, we didn't see them after that, but yeah... super awkward thirty second ride.
So as I'm blogging, I'm watching "Say Yes to the Dress" and the Oprah Winfrey Network (*gag*) keeps running commercials for Vagisil. Why? And what is up with the friggin women in those commercials?! They either look ridiculously happy or like they're about to lose their minds. Does every woman run that gamut when their hooha isn't in a happy place? Ecstatically happy then in need of a straightjacket and rubber room? I bet men make those storyboards...
And Oprah. Cannot STAND this woman. Many many reasons why, but first and foremost, her conceitedness. Between her and Tyra, I want to reach through the tv anytime they're on it and fling Jello at them. Rant over. :o)
Can I just say that "Say Yes to the Dress" is one of my favorite shows? I remember how it felt to go looking for the first time for wedding dresses (5 weeks after I had Rhea!), and not only how much fun it was, but also that feeling when I put on "the" dress. My mom made me try on a sleeved dress that looked straight out of Medieval Times (just for shiz and giggles) and I still remember the sheer hideousness of that dress! We laughed sooo hard because it was white white (which completely washes me out), so I looked like the corpse bride, it weighed about 5,000 pounds, had wacky sleeves, and quite possibly the ugliest train I've ever seen. Then I put on my dress, and I swear I heard the "Hallelujah" chorus. I stepped up on the pedestal, under the lights, and heard "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" I loved that it made me look like a pinup girl, only 5 weeks post-baby, so I could only imagine what I'd look like when all the weight was off and I was back to being tightened up. I still have it in the closet and every now and then I think about putting it on and lounging around the house. I love that dress and if I could live in it, I would! So it's so fun to watch other women go through the fun shenanigans that wedding shopping entails. Hopefully we'll be able to take a honeymoon before we renew our vows!
Oh weddings... so much fun...
Anyway, on that note, I'm out for the night! Thanks for reading this long, ambling entry. I promise I'll keep up on it so I won't have to cram five days' worth of thoughts into one entry! *yawn* Be healthy, be well, be happy.
Nighty night!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Oh what a night... and day... and night...
The past 25ish hours have been one rollercoaster ride. It started with Trace spiking a 101.3 fever right before bed. I gave him Tylenol and sent him off to bed. When I got up to check on him about 4 1/2 hours later (so the meds still should have been in his system), he was fire burnin' fire burnin' on the dance floor. (That's right- I just referenced Sean Kingston.) I got him up, took his temp, and discovered that he was running a 102.7 fever. Greeeeat. (Tony the Tiger... that just happened.) So I go to dose him on Tylenol again, and less than five minutes later, my poor little man is heaving like the sea. Less than five minutes after he started heaving, he threw up all of the Tylenol I'd just given him. Awesome. So I brought him to bed, fearing that if I put him right back in his crib, he'd throw up and choke on it. Not a good scenario. However, bringing him to bed was also not such a great scenario. He laid quietly snuggled next to me for a while, just twirling his Winnie blanket ears in the dark... until he decided to sit straight up, stare at the open door, point, and start having a conversation with someone- someone who wasn't there. He babbled nonstop, throwing words in like "Mama" "Daddy" and "Way Way" (Rhea Rhea), not to mention "hi" "hola" and "wasat?", for about three minutes. Then he paused, like he was listening, and began babbling again. This went on for about ten minutes, when he flipped over so we were tummy to tummy, and settled down. I was almost asleep, and so was he, when he decided to pop up and start smacking Nate on the back. (Since Nate sleeps like a rock when he's out-out, he didn't feel a thing!) At that point, I decided it was time to put wee Willy Winky back in his bed.
Now, Rhea has this issue with thunder all of a sudden. Whether there's thunder out or not (more often- not), she FREAKS out if she thinks she hears it. So my alarm goes off at 6:35, as it does every morning, and I get out of bed with the full intention of showering, studying, and getting some coffee into my system. But when I went in to check on Trace, he woke up. I was rocking him, and he was almost back to sleep, when the back of the glider tapped the wall ever so lightly. Next thing I know, Rhea is up SCREAMING "MOMMY! THERE'S THUNDER!" Needless to say, there went my plans for a tranquil, peaceful morning. (I eventually got to shower at 5:30... sweet.) I cringe to think of what the spring's going to hold for us, seeing as how she freaks out about trains (the tracks are across the street and behind the houses- we can see the trains running from our front windows), airplanes (we're right in the path of the landing fields at O'Hare), and just about any other loud possible noise. Car doors, the Dumpster being rolled to/from the street on garbage day, subwoofers, the rolling shower doors, and apparently now, a tap from a glider in the next room. It'll be a party for sure!
In the middle of all this, it's midterm week. I had a big paper due in my lit class today and I was kind of doing the spazzy dance about how I was going to get it up to campus. Adam sat with Trace while he napped this morning so I could run Rhea to my mom's (JT turned 1 last week and today was his birthday party- Rhea was jazzed!), and I came home and finished editing and proofing my paper. Oh, and assembling the dreaded bibliography. Why on earth are there so many friggin' different styles of formatting?! And what on earth is Chicago format?! I'm a Chicago area native, and I have never in my life ever heard of Chicago formatting. So there's MLA, APA, and Chicago- I bet someone in Big Sky came up with Chicago style. I mean, what is there really to do in Big Sky, Montana other than stare up at the, well, big sky? This is all speculation of course, seeing as how I've never been to Big Sky, let alone anywhere near Montana. But I digress. Luckily for me, my professor (who rocks my socks, by the way) was kind enough to email me (just as I was hitting panic mode) and give me permission to submit my electronic copy to her and hand in my hard copy next class. Crisis averted, I did just that! And now, I really should be studying for my midterm for Thursday morning, but my brain is so fried that I don't even want to think about it. But I will. Who knew there were so many women in biblical literature to study for a midterm?! Trust me- there's a lot.
Moving right along, I was told by my mom that Rhea was "really really sweet with JT." Aww, what a doll... considering she got a spanking for kicking sickboy right in the face today. Sigh. I swear, sibling rivalry is proving to be wiiicked. Although, she about melted my heart tonight when we met my cousin for dinner at Maggiano's (*swoon*) and we passed a mom carrying her infant daughter, and Rhea looked at me and said "Mommy, look at that sweet baby girl! She looks like my baby sister Faith! Will you give her to me soon?" Well, let's clear some things up. 1.) I am not pregnant, nor do we plan to start trying for at least another year. I'm free and clear to deliver anytime in late December of next year, which is when my classes will be officially over and my bachelors will be officially complete. I won't walk until February 2013, which gives me a decent recovery window. Yes, I've thought this all out. 2.) We don't have a baby girl, let alone a baby girl named Faith. 3.) While I love the name, we haven't even begun to think baby names, because as I mentioned in point 1, I'm not pregnant. 4.) Rhea does surprisingly well in fooling me into thinking that she's finally realized that her sibling is a baby boy named Trace and not a baby sister named Tracy... until she has moments like the one I just described. Then I really begin to wonder what I'm not saying to get her to make the connection...
On another note, the first signs of spring have officially entered the Klinger house. I mean that literally. I was sweeping the house, and from out underneath some toys comes flying at me (right at me- my life flashed before my eyes) was a hundred thousand legger. That's slang in our house for a centipede. Gross. Every year, they're rampant and we have no idea where they come from, but last spring, I almost died because there was one that we just could not kill. That damn thing showed up in every room of the house at all hours/times/days- shower, kids' room, our room, living room floor (while I was watching a scary movie- in the dark, of course), laundry room... until Nate finally used his stealthy Spidey sense and splattered that fat monster on the kids' wall. Since then, Nate believes he's Miyagi and takes out flies in one fell swoop of his hand. I now find no need for an exterminator. Back to my gross disgusting centipede, who knew that I was so stealthy with broom bristles? That thing was dead with about 10 good whacks of the bristly end of my broom. Rhea wanted to know "why I was spanking the floor" and Jesse wanted to know if it was edible. It twitched, she flipped, and quit trying to eat it. Good call, Fattycake. Good call.
Anyway, that, in a nutshell, was my crazy day. Now I really do need to go study. For realsies. If only Nate would quit sawing logs on the couch next to me, that would be most ideal.
Night all!
Now, Rhea has this issue with thunder all of a sudden. Whether there's thunder out or not (more often- not), she FREAKS out if she thinks she hears it. So my alarm goes off at 6:35, as it does every morning, and I get out of bed with the full intention of showering, studying, and getting some coffee into my system. But when I went in to check on Trace, he woke up. I was rocking him, and he was almost back to sleep, when the back of the glider tapped the wall ever so lightly. Next thing I know, Rhea is up SCREAMING "MOMMY! THERE'S THUNDER!" Needless to say, there went my plans for a tranquil, peaceful morning. (I eventually got to shower at 5:30... sweet.) I cringe to think of what the spring's going to hold for us, seeing as how she freaks out about trains (the tracks are across the street and behind the houses- we can see the trains running from our front windows), airplanes (we're right in the path of the landing fields at O'Hare), and just about any other loud possible noise. Car doors, the Dumpster being rolled to/from the street on garbage day, subwoofers, the rolling shower doors, and apparently now, a tap from a glider in the next room. It'll be a party for sure!
In the middle of all this, it's midterm week. I had a big paper due in my lit class today and I was kind of doing the spazzy dance about how I was going to get it up to campus. Adam sat with Trace while he napped this morning so I could run Rhea to my mom's (JT turned 1 last week and today was his birthday party- Rhea was jazzed!), and I came home and finished editing and proofing my paper. Oh, and assembling the dreaded bibliography. Why on earth are there so many friggin' different styles of formatting?! And what on earth is Chicago format?! I'm a Chicago area native, and I have never in my life ever heard of Chicago formatting. So there's MLA, APA, and Chicago- I bet someone in Big Sky came up with Chicago style. I mean, what is there really to do in Big Sky, Montana other than stare up at the, well, big sky? This is all speculation of course, seeing as how I've never been to Big Sky, let alone anywhere near Montana. But I digress. Luckily for me, my professor (who rocks my socks, by the way) was kind enough to email me (just as I was hitting panic mode) and give me permission to submit my electronic copy to her and hand in my hard copy next class. Crisis averted, I did just that! And now, I really should be studying for my midterm for Thursday morning, but my brain is so fried that I don't even want to think about it. But I will. Who knew there were so many women in biblical literature to study for a midterm?! Trust me- there's a lot.
Moving right along, I was told by my mom that Rhea was "really really sweet with JT." Aww, what a doll... considering she got a spanking for kicking sickboy right in the face today. Sigh. I swear, sibling rivalry is proving to be wiiicked. Although, she about melted my heart tonight when we met my cousin for dinner at Maggiano's (*swoon*) and we passed a mom carrying her infant daughter, and Rhea looked at me and said "Mommy, look at that sweet baby girl! She looks like my baby sister Faith! Will you give her to me soon?" Well, let's clear some things up. 1.) I am not pregnant, nor do we plan to start trying for at least another year. I'm free and clear to deliver anytime in late December of next year, which is when my classes will be officially over and my bachelors will be officially complete. I won't walk until February 2013, which gives me a decent recovery window. Yes, I've thought this all out. 2.) We don't have a baby girl, let alone a baby girl named Faith. 3.) While I love the name, we haven't even begun to think baby names, because as I mentioned in point 1, I'm not pregnant. 4.) Rhea does surprisingly well in fooling me into thinking that she's finally realized that her sibling is a baby boy named Trace and not a baby sister named Tracy... until she has moments like the one I just described. Then I really begin to wonder what I'm not saying to get her to make the connection...
On another note, the first signs of spring have officially entered the Klinger house. I mean that literally. I was sweeping the house, and from out underneath some toys comes flying at me (right at me- my life flashed before my eyes) was a hundred thousand legger. That's slang in our house for a centipede. Gross. Every year, they're rampant and we have no idea where they come from, but last spring, I almost died because there was one that we just could not kill. That damn thing showed up in every room of the house at all hours/times/days- shower, kids' room, our room, living room floor (while I was watching a scary movie- in the dark, of course), laundry room... until Nate finally used his stealthy Spidey sense and splattered that fat monster on the kids' wall. Since then, Nate believes he's Miyagi and takes out flies in one fell swoop of his hand. I now find no need for an exterminator. Back to my gross disgusting centipede, who knew that I was so stealthy with broom bristles? That thing was dead with about 10 good whacks of the bristly end of my broom. Rhea wanted to know "why I was spanking the floor" and Jesse wanted to know if it was edible. It twitched, she flipped, and quit trying to eat it. Good call, Fattycake. Good call.
Anyway, that, in a nutshell, was my crazy day. Now I really do need to go study. For realsies. If only Nate would quit sawing logs on the couch next to me, that would be most ideal.
Night all!
Monday, March 14, 2011
So...
I'm sitting in Elmhurst library and have been pounding out a lit paper for the past 2 1/2 hours, and I desperately need a break. Have you ever pictured yourself busting out a musical number to a completely inappropriate song in an entirely inappropriate setting? I'm having one of those moments. Ryan Starr's song "Start a Fire" just came on my iPod's shuffle, and I'm fighting the urge to air drum and sing like a maniac to the sexually charged lyrics. It's "that kind" of song, that just makes you want to turn it up super loud and sing along. An example of the chorus?
Here we go
Just lose control and let your body give into the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin
Is this love
Or just sexual desire?
We're gonna start a fire
Saucy, right? But the driving drums and guitar, the piano ostenato... gah. Love it! (Ostenato: blast-from-the-past word from my music classes earlier on in college- it means a repetitive note pattern played throughout a musical piece)
I need to get up and do something but clearly the library is not the place to even go air-guitar it up in the bathroom! So, I'm blogging. What a great alternative! I won't give the poor elderly population that has been steadily streaming through the floor all afternoon a heart attack and the librarians can keep their rulers in the appropriate places, instead of smacking me across the knuckles.
I just texted my mom to see how the kiddies are doing (they're at her house so I can write this blasted paper, which is actually about done, I believe!), and I've just been informed that Rhea and Trace are eating snack. Rhea is planning her Justin Bieber birthday party and has already invited everyone. That girl is so on top of things! I guess that come December, I won't have much planning to do, since I'm anticipating her requesting to make and send out her invites any day now.
Funny Rhea story from today. We haven't been to my mom's since last Wednesday. They're usually there Tuesday and Thursday and sometimes another day in between so I can study. Last week, it worked out that Tuesday was their only day there, then Wednesday we had a fun day together. Thursday Adam watched them since I didn't have my 2nd class- we just conferenced with my prof if we needed direction on our papers (I did!)- and my mom's daycare kids were dealing with bouts of sickness. So Rhea hasn't seen her little daycare friends for a while. Rory was so excited to see Rhea that she went up to her at lunch and gave her a hug. Rhea leaned over to Rory and said "I'm so happy to see my friends!" to which Rory replied "I love you RheaLynn!" and gave Rhea a hug. Corey got up from his side of the table (he was across from the girls) and gave them both a BIG group hug with a huge smile on his face. Well, Rhea took that Kodak moment and threw it out the window when she said "Oookay, okay! That's enough already!" Yep. That's my girl.
Welp, I think it's about that time. No, not for the musical number. For me to proof my paper, do some last minute tweaking, and print that sucka! Although, I'm now listening to DJ Khaled's "All I Do is Win" and I'm feeling like throwin' down a crunky, bone-thrashing stompfest in the study area. I wonder if the librarians can tell that I'm exercising massive amounts of restraint... the toe tapping, bobbing in my chair, and "air piano" on the table might be dead giveaways. :oD
Ta ta for now!
Here we go
Just lose control and let your body give into the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin
Is this love
Or just sexual desire?
We're gonna start a fire
Saucy, right? But the driving drums and guitar, the piano ostenato... gah. Love it! (Ostenato: blast-from-the-past word from my music classes earlier on in college- it means a repetitive note pattern played throughout a musical piece)
I need to get up and do something but clearly the library is not the place to even go air-guitar it up in the bathroom! So, I'm blogging. What a great alternative! I won't give the poor elderly population that has been steadily streaming through the floor all afternoon a heart attack and the librarians can keep their rulers in the appropriate places, instead of smacking me across the knuckles.
I just texted my mom to see how the kiddies are doing (they're at her house so I can write this blasted paper, which is actually about done, I believe!), and I've just been informed that Rhea and Trace are eating snack. Rhea is planning her Justin Bieber birthday party and has already invited everyone. That girl is so on top of things! I guess that come December, I won't have much planning to do, since I'm anticipating her requesting to make and send out her invites any day now.
Funny Rhea story from today. We haven't been to my mom's since last Wednesday. They're usually there Tuesday and Thursday and sometimes another day in between so I can study. Last week, it worked out that Tuesday was their only day there, then Wednesday we had a fun day together. Thursday Adam watched them since I didn't have my 2nd class- we just conferenced with my prof if we needed direction on our papers (I did!)- and my mom's daycare kids were dealing with bouts of sickness. So Rhea hasn't seen her little daycare friends for a while. Rory was so excited to see Rhea that she went up to her at lunch and gave her a hug. Rhea leaned over to Rory and said "I'm so happy to see my friends!" to which Rory replied "I love you RheaLynn!" and gave Rhea a hug. Corey got up from his side of the table (he was across from the girls) and gave them both a BIG group hug with a huge smile on his face. Well, Rhea took that Kodak moment and threw it out the window when she said "Oookay, okay! That's enough already!" Yep. That's my girl.
Welp, I think it's about that time. No, not for the musical number. For me to proof my paper, do some last minute tweaking, and print that sucka! Although, I'm now listening to DJ Khaled's "All I Do is Win" and I'm feeling like throwin' down a crunky, bone-thrashing stompfest in the study area. I wonder if the librarians can tell that I'm exercising massive amounts of restraint... the toe tapping, bobbing in my chair, and "air piano" on the table might be dead giveaways. :oD
Ta ta for now!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Ah crap.
I just happened to take a gander at my "study guide" for my Women in Biblical Literature class... are you kidding me?! The study guide is apparently everything that we've ever studied in class thus far, every minute detail, every undocumented Hebrew translation of random words/names/phrases in the Bible (I say undocumented because I have the English Standard Version study Bible, and my teacher is a Hebrew professor... my Bible makes zero mention of 3/4 of the original Hebrew that my teacher revolves lectures around. As far as I know, neither does anyone else's Bible. Sigh.), every utterance she's made to this point. Grr double grr.
Not only am I going to have to bust a move to pull a good grade on that midterm on Thursday, but I also have an ridiculously cool (and unbelievably challenging) paper to write for my Multicultural Colonial/Post-Colonial Literature class. Leave it to me to unknowingly highlight a theme that my prof (Dr. Tuck Lively, how sweet a name is that?!) has never had a student write a paper on?! So of course I have to take up that challenge for two reasons: 1.) To set the precedent and 2.) To prove that I can pull off writing a seriously kick ass paper... despite not having done so since 2007. I really wish I wasn't falling asleep as I'm blogging about all the work I have to do (yay procrastination!)... otherwise I'd be all over it. Correction: I just remembered that I wrote 1 1/2 pages of my 5-6 page limit before I blogged my first b-log tonight. I supposed I can drag myself to bed without guilt! Or, at least, not as much guilt as I should probably be feeling.
Nighty night world... whoever you are and wherever you are.
P.S. Thoughts/prayers to Japan tonight, as every night since the earthquake and tsunami. Even if you're not a "Jesus person," send them your thoughts and good energy. They need every last bit of it that they can get.
Not only am I going to have to bust a move to pull a good grade on that midterm on Thursday, but I also have an ridiculously cool (and unbelievably challenging) paper to write for my Multicultural Colonial/Post-Colonial Literature class. Leave it to me to unknowingly highlight a theme that my prof (Dr. Tuck Lively, how sweet a name is that?!) has never had a student write a paper on?! So of course I have to take up that challenge for two reasons: 1.) To set the precedent and 2.) To prove that I can pull off writing a seriously kick ass paper... despite not having done so since 2007. I really wish I wasn't falling asleep as I'm blogging about all the work I have to do (yay procrastination!)... otherwise I'd be all over it. Correction: I just remembered that I wrote 1 1/2 pages of my 5-6 page limit before I blogged my first b-log tonight. I supposed I can drag myself to bed without guilt! Or, at least, not as much guilt as I should probably be feeling.
Nighty night world... whoever you are and wherever you are.
P.S. Thoughts/prayers to Japan tonight, as every night since the earthquake and tsunami. Even if you're not a "Jesus person," send them your thoughts and good energy. They need every last bit of it that they can get.
About Me
Oookay. So. I'm not "new," per se, to the blog-o-sphere, but I haven't done it in awhile, so I may be a bit out of practice. Bear with me. I thought I'd do a wee little snapshot into me to get started, so here goes!
Name: Rebecca Lynn (I go by a plethora of nicknames, namely Becca, Bex, Beck, and Chewy. Don't ask. :oP)
Birthday: 1/15/85 (I like shiny things- and cash.)
Occupation: Gimpy student, but there's a backstory here. I haven't always been a gimp or a student, but a certain series of events last April (the 5th to be exact) changed life as I know it. I rolled my ankle and, in turn, (bust out Dr. Google or your latest anatomy chart for this one!) fractured my 4th metatarsal base and tibia, as well as ruptured my tibiofibular ligament, both peroneal tendons, the Achilles tendon, the soleus muscle, and a lisfranc's dislocation. That last one, the lisfranc's, I'll give you some info on. Not like you care, but who knows?! Maybe there are some nursing students, future doctors, or anatomy geeks (like me!) who might want to know. So. The lisfranc's dislocation is pretty rare in that it's difficult to rupture. The joint is located between the 1st metatarsal (that's the big toe) and the 2nd metatarsal (the one next to it), and usually is only torn/sprained a little bit when it's injured. This particular injury accounts for 1/55,000 injuries annually, so guess who drew the lucky number in 2010? (This girl! Boo.) Anyway, my dislocation was so severe that it literally ruptured the entire joint from the top of my foot to the bottom of my foot. Super, right? Moving on... After a pretty gnarly 4-hour surgery (with some damage left unrepaired due to the amount of time I was under general anesthesia- story within a story there, but don't worry, I'll get to that) and the amount of time I had the blood withheld from the bottom of my leg, (I was maxed out all the way around), I've been left with a permanent nerve disorder called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). Double super awesome. Oh, story about anesthesia. Apparently, my doctor was going to do the surgery with me under "twilight anesthesia," meaning I wouldn't be under general, but I also wouldn't feel the surgery. He told Nathan after surgery, that I started moving and squirming around on the table (oops), then began calling (and here's where it gets really funny) for "some guy named Ray." Well, hubs burst out laughing and said "Our daughter's name is Rhea!" Dr. Lim, according to Nate, "had never looked more relieved." Leave it to me to have my doctor thinking that I'm delivering OR table confessions! Digression over...
Prior to all this fun, I was an assistant store manager for Starbucks. I've been with the company since 2001, and was actually on a paid break when I got injured. Did workers comp pick up the tab? Nope. So now I'm chillin' on disability. (Double boo.) I got bored on disability and decided to go back to school to finish my bachelors (finally!), and I'm now an incredibly cool driver with a handicapped placard. Hence, gimpy student.
Marital status: Married since 10/10/08 to the love of my life, Nathan. We're high school sweeties (aww), who were bffs for two years before we started dating. I was a cradle-robbing, newly graduated high school senior and he was... not. He was heading into his junior year of high school when we (finally!) decided to start dating after the two previous years where we'd had mutual crushes on each other but neither of us was ever single at the same time as the other. Funny how things work out.
Children: 2. RheaLynn Patten (pronounced "ray" not "ree-uh" or "ray-uh") is 3, and a total goon. Nathan Robert III (aka Trace) is 1 and hilarious. They're almost 25 months apart exactly, which is so awesome. Well, except for the newly developed sibling rivalry coming from "Princess Justin Bieber." You'll get to know them- since I'm on disability and unable to work at this time, I'm a stay-at-home mom, so I spend 99% of my time having Justin Bieber dance parties (mainly me hobbling around the room for about a minute then busting out the video camera) and playing along with Trace as he rocks out to the Wiggles. Speaking of Trace, you're probably wondering where his nickname came from. I'm a half-breed Mexican (my father- eh, sperm donor really- is from Tepehuanes, Durango, Mexico, and my mom is a European mutt with a dash of Native American thrown in for taste) and when we found out "officially" that T was a boy (I already knew- just had "that feeling), I said to Nate "Awesome! Let's call him Tres!" Nate, however, not being Mexican, found it a bit ridiculous that I wanted to call our son "a number in Spanish." So I suggested a spelling change, and here we are!
Pets: Jesse (beagle/pit/possible Jack Russell mix): Super fat- picture a ginormo beer battered brat bursting at the seams, stick it with toothpicks, and you've got our girl; Phoenix (golden/greyhound mix): Jesse's exact opposite, he's tall and lean with the body shape of a greyhound and the hair of a golden; Angel (long-haired tortie): Cat and oftentimes the complete opposite of her name; Betty (guinea pig): Insane. What more can I say? She's a guinea pig. Finally, we supposedly have a betta fish named Dory in the aquarium in the kids' room... however, he goes missing and then mysteriously reappears. He's not jumping out, and he's not buried in the rocks- trust me, we've looked AND emptied the aquarium. No fish inside, no bones outside... I wonder if we'd gotten an electric fence if he'd be more detectable...
Living situation: We live in a 2 bedroom ranch house that was renovated in 1941. Didja hear me? RENOVATED in 1941. So, it's old. Really cute, really old. Our kitchen is probably my most favorite room, although 9/10 times, it's in complete disarray. That also applies to the rest of my house, too, so if you know where I live, don't stop by without warning. Otherwise, you've been forewarned. My brother-in-law Adam (who I figured out yesterday, I've known for about 10 years *gasp*) lives with us parttime. I don't know why it's necessary for me to add the "in-law" onto his relationship because really, he's my brother. Although I guess it would be a bit weird if I was like "This is my husband Nathan, and this is my brother Adam, who also happens to be my husband's brother." That just sounds a little too down-home for me. Adam's dating one of my good friends, Michelle, and they've been together for almost 2 1/2 years. Shell and I used to work together, and we met when I was pregnant with Rhea. Random digression: Best pregnancy moment ever was about a week before I was due, I was still working, despite having my own gravitational pull, not being able to see anything below my boobs, and not being able to really hug anyone because my belly stuck out about 3 feet in front of me. For those of you who haven't had kids yet, pregnant bellies make the best tables. Anyway, I was working the register (since I couldn't get close enough to the bar to actually make drinks without resting the belly- literally- on the counter... but then I couldn't bend over or get back up to get milk, so there was a conundrum- and working the drive thru window was an even bigger situation- no pun intended!) and Michelle was walking behind me with a huge bucket of ice. I turned around to grab a cup to pull coffee for a customer, not realizing that Shell was crossing my galactic plane, and with my bump alone, took her clear off her feet. Ice went flying everywhere, she was on the floor on her bum laughing hysterically, and my customer was a-freakin' out! Ah, good times. Adam and Michelle hang out here a decent amount, so we've got a pretty full house most of the time.
Hobbies: music (I sing/write/play piano, and am beginning the excursion into learning guitar- again), writing (duh), reading (when I get a moment of silence), martial arts (I am, for all intensive purposes, a 2nd degree black belt in taekwondo). Before this injury, I had plans to spend a week last summer down in Texas training with the Lopez family. For those of you who aren't martial arts geekazoids like myself, they're the First Family of Taekwondo. Steven had medaled at the Olympic level multiple times, as have his siblings Mark and Diana, and they're all coached by their older brother Jean. So cool, and Jean's really nice. At least he seemed to be when we were emailing back and forth about my anticipated excursion to Dixie. Now, obviously, martial arts are out of the picture. (Anyone need a coach a la "Dodgeball"?)
I'm addicted to my Blackberry, I love to travel (but never seem to have enough money to do it now... hmm, wonder why?) and have been to Honduras and Canada (eh?), and I'm a crunchy person. I need at least 1 crunchy food per meal otherwise I feel like I'll freak out. Weird, I know. I'm a Christian, but don't worry- I promise not to thump by Bible at you. I may make mention of things that come up in society that bug me with regards to matters of faith, but I will never try and shove my religion (note: I said religion, not faith- they're two different things) down your throat. I won't do that with my faith either because I can't make anyone believe through words alone. I just try and live the best life I can, recognizing that, for me personally, I wouldn't be who I am without faith. *stepping off soapbox* Hmm hmm hmm... I think that's about it for the introductory shenanigans. The rest I'll reveal and you'll discover as we go, I guess! :o)
Name: Rebecca Lynn (I go by a plethora of nicknames, namely Becca, Bex, Beck, and Chewy. Don't ask. :oP)
Birthday: 1/15/85 (I like shiny things- and cash.)
Occupation: Gimpy student, but there's a backstory here. I haven't always been a gimp or a student, but a certain series of events last April (the 5th to be exact) changed life as I know it. I rolled my ankle and, in turn, (bust out Dr. Google or your latest anatomy chart for this one!) fractured my 4th metatarsal base and tibia, as well as ruptured my tibiofibular ligament, both peroneal tendons, the Achilles tendon, the soleus muscle, and a lisfranc's dislocation. That last one, the lisfranc's, I'll give you some info on. Not like you care, but who knows?! Maybe there are some nursing students, future doctors, or anatomy geeks (like me!) who might want to know. So. The lisfranc's dislocation is pretty rare in that it's difficult to rupture. The joint is located between the 1st metatarsal (that's the big toe) and the 2nd metatarsal (the one next to it), and usually is only torn/sprained a little bit when it's injured. This particular injury accounts for 1/55,000 injuries annually, so guess who drew the lucky number in 2010? (This girl! Boo.) Anyway, my dislocation was so severe that it literally ruptured the entire joint from the top of my foot to the bottom of my foot. Super, right? Moving on... After a pretty gnarly 4-hour surgery (with some damage left unrepaired due to the amount of time I was under general anesthesia- story within a story there, but don't worry, I'll get to that) and the amount of time I had the blood withheld from the bottom of my leg, (I was maxed out all the way around), I've been left with a permanent nerve disorder called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). Double super awesome. Oh, story about anesthesia. Apparently, my doctor was going to do the surgery with me under "twilight anesthesia," meaning I wouldn't be under general, but I also wouldn't feel the surgery. He told Nathan after surgery, that I started moving and squirming around on the table (oops), then began calling (and here's where it gets really funny) for "some guy named Ray." Well, hubs burst out laughing and said "Our daughter's name is Rhea!" Dr. Lim, according to Nate, "had never looked more relieved." Leave it to me to have my doctor thinking that I'm delivering OR table confessions! Digression over...
Prior to all this fun, I was an assistant store manager for Starbucks. I've been with the company since 2001, and was actually on a paid break when I got injured. Did workers comp pick up the tab? Nope. So now I'm chillin' on disability. (Double boo.) I got bored on disability and decided to go back to school to finish my bachelors (finally!), and I'm now an incredibly cool driver with a handicapped placard. Hence, gimpy student.
Marital status: Married since 10/10/08 to the love of my life, Nathan. We're high school sweeties (aww), who were bffs for two years before we started dating. I was a cradle-robbing, newly graduated high school senior and he was... not. He was heading into his junior year of high school when we (finally!) decided to start dating after the two previous years where we'd had mutual crushes on each other but neither of us was ever single at the same time as the other. Funny how things work out.
Children: 2. RheaLynn Patten (pronounced "ray" not "ree-uh" or "ray-uh") is 3, and a total goon. Nathan Robert III (aka Trace) is 1 and hilarious. They're almost 25 months apart exactly, which is so awesome. Well, except for the newly developed sibling rivalry coming from "Princess Justin Bieber." You'll get to know them- since I'm on disability and unable to work at this time, I'm a stay-at-home mom, so I spend 99% of my time having Justin Bieber dance parties (mainly me hobbling around the room for about a minute then busting out the video camera) and playing along with Trace as he rocks out to the Wiggles. Speaking of Trace, you're probably wondering where his nickname came from. I'm a half-breed Mexican (my father- eh, sperm donor really- is from Tepehuanes, Durango, Mexico, and my mom is a European mutt with a dash of Native American thrown in for taste) and when we found out "officially" that T was a boy (I already knew- just had "that feeling), I said to Nate "Awesome! Let's call him Tres!" Nate, however, not being Mexican, found it a bit ridiculous that I wanted to call our son "a number in Spanish." So I suggested a spelling change, and here we are!
Pets: Jesse (beagle/pit/possible Jack Russell mix): Super fat- picture a ginormo beer battered brat bursting at the seams, stick it with toothpicks, and you've got our girl; Phoenix (golden/greyhound mix): Jesse's exact opposite, he's tall and lean with the body shape of a greyhound and the hair of a golden; Angel (long-haired tortie): Cat and oftentimes the complete opposite of her name; Betty (guinea pig): Insane. What more can I say? She's a guinea pig. Finally, we supposedly have a betta fish named Dory in the aquarium in the kids' room... however, he goes missing and then mysteriously reappears. He's not jumping out, and he's not buried in the rocks- trust me, we've looked AND emptied the aquarium. No fish inside, no bones outside... I wonder if we'd gotten an electric fence if he'd be more detectable...
Living situation: We live in a 2 bedroom ranch house that was renovated in 1941. Didja hear me? RENOVATED in 1941. So, it's old. Really cute, really old. Our kitchen is probably my most favorite room, although 9/10 times, it's in complete disarray. That also applies to the rest of my house, too, so if you know where I live, don't stop by without warning. Otherwise, you've been forewarned. My brother-in-law Adam (who I figured out yesterday, I've known for about 10 years *gasp*) lives with us parttime. I don't know why it's necessary for me to add the "in-law" onto his relationship because really, he's my brother. Although I guess it would be a bit weird if I was like "This is my husband Nathan, and this is my brother Adam, who also happens to be my husband's brother." That just sounds a little too down-home for me. Adam's dating one of my good friends, Michelle, and they've been together for almost 2 1/2 years. Shell and I used to work together, and we met when I was pregnant with Rhea. Random digression: Best pregnancy moment ever was about a week before I was due, I was still working, despite having my own gravitational pull, not being able to see anything below my boobs, and not being able to really hug anyone because my belly stuck out about 3 feet in front of me. For those of you who haven't had kids yet, pregnant bellies make the best tables. Anyway, I was working the register (since I couldn't get close enough to the bar to actually make drinks without resting the belly- literally- on the counter... but then I couldn't bend over or get back up to get milk, so there was a conundrum- and working the drive thru window was an even bigger situation- no pun intended!) and Michelle was walking behind me with a huge bucket of ice. I turned around to grab a cup to pull coffee for a customer, not realizing that Shell was crossing my galactic plane, and with my bump alone, took her clear off her feet. Ice went flying everywhere, she was on the floor on her bum laughing hysterically, and my customer was a-freakin' out! Ah, good times. Adam and Michelle hang out here a decent amount, so we've got a pretty full house most of the time.
Hobbies: music (I sing/write/play piano, and am beginning the excursion into learning guitar- again), writing (duh), reading (when I get a moment of silence), martial arts (I am, for all intensive purposes, a 2nd degree black belt in taekwondo). Before this injury, I had plans to spend a week last summer down in Texas training with the Lopez family. For those of you who aren't martial arts geekazoids like myself, they're the First Family of Taekwondo. Steven had medaled at the Olympic level multiple times, as have his siblings Mark and Diana, and they're all coached by their older brother Jean. So cool, and Jean's really nice. At least he seemed to be when we were emailing back and forth about my anticipated excursion to Dixie. Now, obviously, martial arts are out of the picture. (Anyone need a coach a la "Dodgeball"?)
I'm addicted to my Blackberry, I love to travel (but never seem to have enough money to do it now... hmm, wonder why?) and have been to Honduras and Canada (eh?), and I'm a crunchy person. I need at least 1 crunchy food per meal otherwise I feel like I'll freak out. Weird, I know. I'm a Christian, but don't worry- I promise not to thump by Bible at you. I may make mention of things that come up in society that bug me with regards to matters of faith, but I will never try and shove my religion (note: I said religion, not faith- they're two different things) down your throat. I won't do that with my faith either because I can't make anyone believe through words alone. I just try and live the best life I can, recognizing that, for me personally, I wouldn't be who I am without faith. *stepping off soapbox* Hmm hmm hmm... I think that's about it for the introductory shenanigans. The rest I'll reveal and you'll discover as we go, I guess! :o)
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