Shrink

Jesse, a friend, and I are going to Fargo tomorrow for the day. I am excited to get out this gigantic city trapped inside a small town. Jess is going to fly his brother's airplane and we will get there fast---well as fast as the cute little air plane will go. I am going shopping---mama needs some new clothes. I also get to see my auntie Jan and my Grammy Cheryl---two people I love so much---WINNING!

I wore high heels to work today, and I fell a few times. One of my co-workers said she watched one of the falls out her office window (I was walking/stumbling to my car in the parking lot).

I have been going to Minot to see a shrink...I can call them that I believe---because they shrink negative feelings or at least they are suppose to. I generally don't feel terrible, I just feel yucky and/or anxious. Sometimes, I think that I should just be my own shrink--like I should just talk to myself in the mirror, because I know what I need to hear, I just need to believe it. Honesty is a virtue. I believe that to be a good person you must be honest. Some people say that you can be too honest, yes, yes you can--I believe this--like you shouldn't tell everyone exactly what you are thinking, because just like honesty is a virtue, so is being polite. It is not polite to tell someone that you think their earrings look like little pieces of doggie doo doo hanging from their ear lobes. I suppose you could, if you KNOW the person extremely well and to the point where this is "deemed" acceptable--but it wouldn't be nice to say to the woman or man standing behind you at the super market, "Hey, you look like you have little pieces of doggie doo doo hanging from your ear lobes." I would not be honest if I said I am not nervous about telling people I am going to therapy. In fact, I have only told four people (yes I kept count) and now if You are reading this, I am telling you too. So, now by this time tomorrow, maybe five or six people will know? I don't know. I like talking to a therapist, I can talk and talk and talk and she gives me advice and doesn't just tell me to get over the "things" I can't. She helps. She helps me understand myself, let's face it I'm complicated. Jesse asked me if I lay down on a couch.. I haven't yet, but I think I will during my next session, plus--I will hold a box of tissues against my tummy. Why not?

Like I have stated before in many of my posts, I am proactive when it comes to my mental health. I know what I need, when I need it. What I don't know is, who I need when I need them.

No Words

The other night, Jess, Keyton, and I were sitting in the living room. Our dog Ruby often feels the need to hump Keyton's leg. Everyone knows what I am talking about, so I can use the word "hump". I honestly don't know what else to call it. Would I call it, bounces her butt up and down while dog's paws grasp leg? I don't think that works. Anyways, it is a dominance thing, it's Ruby's way (yes Ruby is a girl dog that humps legs) of saying, "I own you Keyton, you are my kid." This "situation" has been getting worse recently (Ruby's leg humping). And without thinking about it, when Ruby does this, we say, "NO!! Ruby don't hump!". Now we know we are suppose to censor ourselves around children. We get this. We censor ourselves all the time. Anyway, the other night Keyton jumped up on the couch, and Ruby started to hump his leg. Jesse got mad and said, "No, Ruby, you don't hump!" Pretty soon, we noticed that Keyton was pretending to "hump" the air (remember, Keyton does not know what this means, he had no idea what he is doing) and Jesse told Keyton (horrified) to simply stop, well it was more like,"Keyton Alan, STOP IT!" Keyton then asks,"Why? Why can't I hump dad?". Sometimes, in life there are no words. And this was an instance when Jesse had no words. It wouldn't have been so bad, but Keyton kept (and kept and kept) asking,"Why dad, why can't I hump?" Jesse tactfully changed the subject. Keyton is our serious child. He is mostly funny, when he is not trying to be funny. Keyton has his first baseball game of the season tomorrow. I love watching baseball now that I have a child who plays.

Hal is going to start tennis lessons next week. Hal and I talked about her trying something new this summer. First, I brought up softball. She turned that down--fast. Then, my friend Heidi told me that her daughter was going to try tennis. I asked Hal if she wanted to give tennis a try. She said, "No, I just want to dance and dance and dance!" I pulled up a YouTube video of two girls similar to Hal's age playing tennis. After watching for a second, she said she would give tennis a try, because the girls in the video were wearing skirts. So, she is going to start tennis on Tuesday, in a skirt. I can't wait to see this.

Owen is potty trained! Although, he will only go potty if his little potty chair is in the kitchen. I know, gross. The potty chair is sitting against the wall in the kitchen and when he has to go, he goes. He is even in big boy underwear. I am proud of him.

Summer School

Holy man, I honestly can't believe it's the end of May. Today, I had to go to the school district office and ask if it was too late to register Keyton for summer school. Yes, I got the needed registration form a month ago, yes it has been in my purse for a month, but no, I didn't turn it in. Today, during my lunch break, I went to the district office and I had to explain to the nice woman behind the desk, that basically, I have been too busy to take care of a matter that is in the best interest of my son. I actually, laid my head down on this poor woman's desk and while "laying" there, I preceded to tell her my life story-- as if she were my therapist. This lady was surprisingly sympathetic towards me,and even preceded to tell me about how irresponsible she too, has felt lately. I am not sure if she was trying to make be feel better, however, I left the office feeling better--so if that was in deed what she was doing it worked. I will graduate with my Bachelor's Degree in Nursing on June 16th (unless of course I fail the current class I'm in). I do have a problem though, and that is that I am not actually working as a nurse. It is strange that I have been in school for 10 years ( with some breaks here and there) for nursing, and I am not even working as a nurse. People always ask me, if and when I will go back to nursing. I don't know. I don't know.

The Tooter

Yesterday, was day one of boot camp. We took our measurements and did some tests to see where we stand in terms of how many sit-ups we can do in one minute, how many push-ups, ect. Obviously, I am sore. I am so sore, that I can't even smile. I can't lift my arms above waist level. My mom is doing boot camp with me. She has the same problem as I do when it comes to giggling at inappropriate times. For instance, yesterday when we were doing the sit-up test, my mom was standing on my feet and she was counting how many crunches I was doing. When I was on like number 11, the guy doing sit-ups (like 5 inches away from me) did a little, well actually a big gigantic toot. It was loud----so loud it was hard to pretend to not hear it, and with my giggling problem-- this was a challenge...and I failed. I started laughing. Poor guy. I think my belly got a better work out from laughing at this poor gentleman's air release, than the actual crunches. During the push-up test, our push-ups did not count, unless our chests touched this blue block--I kept thinking during these push-ups that I should have worn my padded bra, so that I wouldn't have had to go down so far.

My job is going fantastic. I am actually loving it. I have met some nice people--- and I did I mention the one hour lunch break? Or the fact that I have my own office with a direct view of a funeral parlor?

We celebrated Keyton's 9th birthday on Friday. We went swimming at a hotel and spent the night. Keyton had a great day--and now has more Legos than anyone should.

On Saturday, Jesse and I left the kids with my parents and went to Bismarck in search of a new vehicle. We found one we liked. I think we would have purchased it-- if the dealership would have offered us more for our mini van. The first month I had my mini van, Owen was in the NICU. One day, after visiting Owen, I was backing out of a parking spot and so was another woman--we hit each other. I got out of the van and this little woman got out her car and said, "Speak no English!" She got back in her car and drove away-- really fast. I don't think my husband believes this story--but it really happened. So basically, since we first owned our van, we have had a crack in the back bumper. We drove to Bismarck to find out that we have to get our van fixed and sell it on our own. However, this was a blessing actually, because when we thought about the vehicle that we were about to purchase, we decided that the light interior would have been a huge pain in the rear. We now decided that we are going to go for black interior. So instead of spending a lot of money on a new set of wheels, I spent (when compared to the car) a little amount of money at the mall.

Jet

I found the above picture of a Challenger 300, one of the many Challenger 300's Jesse's company owns and the jet Jesse flies around the country in each day he is working. This is a picture of one of his actual company's Jets.
I guess this is what it looks like inside? Jesse,correct me if I am wrong.
I found this picture of a guy racing the jet Jesse flies. This sort of cracks me up.

People often ask me about what Jesse (my husband) does for a living. They often ask me what kind of jet Jesse flies. They ask me about his company. I posted some pictures (above) of pictures I found of the jet he flies. I get questions like, "Does he ever pick you up?" "Does he fly out of Williston?" The answer to both of those questions is no--I wish. I am personally fascinated with the line of work my husband does. He flies a really fast Jet (I think). Believe me, when we go on a road trip, like from here (Williston, ND) to Minneapolis, I can tell he is more annoyed than the most, with the length of time it takes us to get there. Recently, we drove to Minneapolis for a doctor's appointment for Keyton. He told me maybe once or twice that he could have flown from the West Coast to the East coast two and half times in the time it took us to drive to Minneapolis from Williston. He flies people to really cool events like the Super Bowl and award shows. Flying is Jesse's passion. He gets to do what he loves and for this I am thankful. I would be more than willing to hop aboard.I have always been somewhat nervous to fly. When I fly with my husband (commercial) I often look at him when things start to get bumpy --and when I notice that he is not making any faces--that say---"We're going down!", I can stay calm. I can't believe people can actual fly private--all I want is a full size SUV.

Pierced!

We didn't make it to church this morning. I am wondering if I would have behaved better today, then last Sunday.

Last night my dad took the kids and I to a basketball game. While sitting in the bleachers, I was overtaken with memories. Memories from being a small child, as well as memories from being in high school myself. When I looked across the room I saw many familiar faces, many of these faces I have seen through out my life. There were four men sitting together, they had all been teachers at Williston High School together, now they are retired. These men sat there together and smiled, they didn't say much to each other, but they didn't have too. They have known one another their whole lives. They have an incredible bond. I couldn't help but find it cool they still wanted to sit together. I thought about all the life changes they had experienced with each other. Like, being on each other's basketball team, coaching others together, attending each others weddings, welcoming children in to the world, watching their children grow up, and welcoming their grandchildren into this world. It made me happy. I also envisioned all of the faces I used to see in that gym. My old friends. I miss my old friends, dearly. Most of the people I grew up with live in various parts of the country. Many of them live in other parts of North Dakota, but I don't see them anymore. I value my relationships with my childhood friends. I see them now (on the social network sites) with their babies, in a sense-- we are all together, because of this social network site. We see the announcements (status updates) such as, "Hey! I just said yes to the man of my dreams!" "Okay, I can finally tell the world that I am going to be a mommy and/ or daddy!" "I am proud to announce the arrival of little baby Jack" "Jack turned one-year-old today!" We get to experience these mile stones with the people we grew up together with, and for that I am appreciative for social networking sites. Even if I haven't seen an old friend for quite some time, I still feel like I am part of his or life, because I can keep in touch through these sites. I also think these sites make time fly by. It seems that I say, "Happy Birthday!" to someone through Facebook, and then it doesn't feel like any time has passed, and I am saying "Happy Birthday!" to the same person again. It is a funny thing, that Facebook, but I think it is brillant, unless of course you are a 15-year-old.

I got my nose pierced the other day. Random, yes. I like it. It hurt, though. I was in no way prepared for such agony. Now, I am dramatic, but this was painful, more painful than anything I had ever experienced. I wanted my nose pierced ever since I can remember. I love little diamond studs. So on Thursday, I thought, hell I am 30--If I still want one---what the hell.? I told myself I would call a salon and try to get an appointment, if there was an opening (that same day) then it would be a sign and it was meant to be--and what do you know? The lady had an appointment that day. So, I go to this place and I checked in with the receptionist who announced to everyone getting their hair colored that I was going to get my nose pierced. An older lady rolled her eyes! Anyways, I waited for my turn and the lady who was going to pierce my nose came over to me and said it would be a couple of minutes, she needed to finish foiling her client's hair and when the hair of her client was processing she would peirce my nose. I waited my turn. When the hair dresser/nose piercer finished putting aluminum foil in the "eye roller" lady's hair, she announced that she was going to run across the street to get something to drink. I thought, she forgot about me, this is a sign---- I should get out here-- fast. Then she turned around and saw me sitting there and remembered that she was suppose to pierce my nose. She said, "Oh, yeah, I have to pierce a nose first." You can imagine how this made me feel. Anyways, she took me back into a tiny room and asked," Now where is the sterilized equipment?" I think my eyes bugged out at that point. She found what she was looking for; and before I could say another word, or get another thought in, she had put a clamp in my nostril (somehow, I still don't know what that was all about) and BAM! she had stabbed me. Slowly the room went black-- I don't think I was out for long. The next thing I knew I was holding a bloody tissue and I was trying to pay for my new accessory --with women with tin-foil in their hair watching me, I wrote a check--- re-wrote a check---and then re-wrote a check again, I got out of the place. Long story short--my nose is pierced. I am really "finding" myself at age 30. My dad is not thrilled....I told him over the phone, he said, "Well don't be surprised if I gag every time I look at you.

Church

I went to church on Sunday with my parents and my kids. My mom had called me and asked if I wanted to go with her and my father. She told me to call her at ten if I was planning on attending. I decided that since church was at 10:45 there was no reason I couldn't get the kids and myself ready. Now, with my ADD it is hard for me to get through a sermon with out forgetting to listen. I do catch most of the lesson that pastor does for the kids in the congregation (when the kids go to the altar). Go figure. Anyways, the pastor was talking to the kids about the "voice" they hear. And that this voice they hear (especially) when they are afraid or need to make a choice-- is the voice of God. This really hit home for me, because I often have voices in my head. No not those types of voices, not the voices telling me that there are microphones in my house recording everything I say. I often hear God talking to me. I can ask him a question (usually I ask it in my head) and I will get an answer. And often those answers make me feel better. Something has been weighing heavily on me lately and I swear that when I asked God about this particular situation (again), God said, "I will tell you my answer, but you never listen to me, I am starting to feel like a broken record." God is right. God often gives me great advice, and for a moment right after God has spoken, I feel better, I feel relieved. However, the next day or night the same "problems" re-occur. I am going to keep asking and I am going to keep listening---I am glad God is so patient.

At the church service I got the giggles. I get the giggles very easily--even in the most inappropriate times. During one of the readings, the woman reading the scripture kept repeating a specific word. I could have handled this word one or even three times, but not 14 times. Here it goes the word was...fornication...sorry--but that word makes me uncomfortable--and after the fourth time the woman said it, I actually laid down in the pew and covered my face--I did glance up at my mother who looked horrified that her 30-year-daughter was acting like a 13-year-old. After I pulled myself together (still laying on the pew) it took me awhile to get the courage up to actually pull myself upright. After I sat up and carefully glanced around the congregation hall and saw that no one was looking at me I felt better. My mother also gave me the look of horror when I asked her when communion was (she knows I look forward to the wine) I know I should probably drink the grape juice--but I prefer the wine--and God told me (he really did) that it is okay for me to drink the wine on Sundays as long as I don't sneak behind the alter and drink the whole bottle. I also enjoyed this Sunday's prayers--I always enjoy the prayers (when we all stand and someone from our church says the prayers). This week I appreciated the prayers even more than usual. We prayed (a woman from our congregation led the prayer) that people would no longer be discriminated against for their race, their culture, and wait for it......their sexual orientation. This is huge for me. I got goose bumps when this sweet older lady said this--as this is something I pray for regularly. I love my church.