Remembrance Day

I just saw this quote in Facebook and wanted to share it here so I can always remember it.  

Keep Your Jeans On

It was a gloomy, overcast day.  The skies threatened rain from dawn on.  It matched my mood as fall break draws to a close.  We didn't go anywhere, and J worked a ton of overtime (just like the past two or three months), so Lincoln and I have had lots of time to play.  We've gone for walks and to the park to play. We visited Nana a couple of times, worked puzzles, and even took a trip to Nashville to Monkey Joe's.  Today, we were slated for another one of his favorite places - the grocery store.

Initially, I wanted to wait until the mail ran to see if my replacement credit card came, but we decided to head out early to try and beat the rain.  We ran a couple of errands, got our groceries, and headed home for a late lunch.  When J ended up leaving work an hour late (even after going in 2 hours early), I was glad to have eaten later.  We decided I'd run to McD's to grab us some dinner, and that's where the title of this post comes in to play.  As I went to out in my shoes, I decided to change out of my jeans into some comfy yoga pants.  They didn't exactly match the top I was wearing, but you don't have to match at a drive-thru, right?

I pulled up to the speaker, placed my order, drove forward and paid (with my new credit card, in case you were wondering).  I got to the second window and they lady immediately handed me my drinks.  I waited for a couple of minutes and was handed a sack of food with the instructions to "Have a nice night."  I pulled forward a bit and did my usual glance into the bag and discovered that my order was wrong.  Instead of chicken nuggets, I had 2 cheeseburgers.  Crap. I pulled into a parking space and checked my receipt.  I expected it to be correct because the screen was correct when I ordered.  It was, so I took it in with my bag of food.  There was a line.  And here I was looking like a "Person of Wal-Mart," waiting to plead my case.  They told me to keep the burgers and gave me the nuggets, thanking me for letting them fix their mistake.  (Huh?) 

At least I had the forethought to take off the 3 "I've Been Krogering" stickers Lincoln had plastered on my chest.  Moral of the story: if I'm going to McDonald's (or any other place with the potential for mistakes), I'd better keep my jeans on.  They're gonna get mine wrong.

Emotional Attachment

It's all gone.  Every last remnant.  Today I lost the last remaining (seemingly unrelated) thing that reminded me of my journey to Motherhood - my credit card number.  It's a strange feature of my brain, I know, but I've always had a knack for remembering long strings of numbers.  So, as I gave out my number "freely" and on several occasions during our IVF cycle and subsequent FETs, I unintentionally memorized the sequence - including the 3 digit security code on the back.  I even kept that card in my nightstand after it expired and a new one came.  Like it or not, it was a small piece of the puzzle that brought me my love.  I'm no hoarder, but I'm definitely the sentimental type.
Since that original cycle, that card has expired and I've had two more in its place.  But yesterday, as I was preparing to pay my bill, I noticed a charge that I did not make listed on my statement.  Further investigation showed an identical charge still pending from earlier this week.  Someone had used my card number for some type of subscription, it seemed.  Nothing else, though. (I guess some crooks are crazy - or maybe they were just seeing if they could get away with it before buying something big.) I immediately disputed the charges with my bank and had the account frozen.  This morning, I had a message to call as soon as possible, so I did.  They have removed the charges and are replacing my card.  I know it is totally crazy, but a tiny little part of me is sad about getting a new credit card number.
I know that I won't forget my journey.  If nothing else, it is recorded HERE.  Every single time I quoted it from memory (or, more frequently, keyed it in while ordering something online), I thought of my sweet boy and how that number helped bring him into my life.  But it makes me angry that everyone can't play by the rules, so we law-abiding citizens are the ones who have to change.
On a side note, has it really been over 3 months since I last blogged?  Shame on me!  I've "written" many posts in my head, but couldn't seem to get them logged in, I guess.  I'll try to do better, just in case anyone is still interested...or for my own therapeutic needs.  Whichever the case may be...

Breaking In

No, I haven't turned to a life of crime.  I'm referring to "breaking in" new colleagues. I feel like I've been doing just that for the past 7 years.  Last year, I mentored a new team member, and got a second new team member (we are in teams of 3) in January.  I've been the most veteran 5th grade teacher for the past 3 years, and I was supposed to mentor our newest team member next year.  Today, I found out she's leaving, too.  Not that I blame her - she'll be closer to home - but it definitely wears on a person's nerves.  There are materials we need to prepare for open house that can't be finalized until someone has been hired to fill her position. (Not to mention the KTIP training I have already endured this summer in preparation for the changes in the program).  I know it's not personal, and I am not taking it as such.  It's just disappointing.  I wish I had the same team 2 years in a row...

Breakfast Woes

We're smack dab in the middle of summer break (not really as per the number of days kids have off, but considering the work I have planned before school starts, I'm pretty much halfway done...or more).  Lincoln is a little under the weather (he's on allergy overload), and we'd already planned a quiet day in today.  I have laundry and cleaning to do, and I suspect Paw Patrol is on his agenda.  We're attempting potty training this week, but aren't making a lot of progress.  

All week, I thought we'd go get breakfast today and bring it back home to eat.  So, after getting Lincoln to take his mess, I asked him if he wanted to go get some biscuits and gravy.  "Eggs?" He asked.  Sure, why not.  You can have some eggs.  I don't eat eggs at all.  Unless they are in something (like cookies or cake...).

I needed to run by the bank, too, so I quickly fixed my deposit and we were on our way. When I got to the speaker at the DQ, I ordered an order of biscuits and gravy (for us to share) plus a side of eggs (for Lincoln).  This is what we had when we got home.

Well played, universe.  I know I didn't need biscuits and gravy, but I'd been thinking about it all week.  Now it's ruined for me.  (Childish, maybe, but I don't like what I don't like.) I'll order differently when there is ever a next time.  I ate this instead:

To make matters worse, Lincoln didn't touch it either.  I guess we'll eat better at lunch.

Slacker

Long time, no write, huh?  No, I haven't disappeared from the planet, been abducted by aliens, nor have I fallen victim to the impending zombie apocalypse.  I've just been busy.  Not too busy to drop a line here and there to anyone who may still actually read my blog, but I guess it's just not been a priority.  It's funny that I love to write so much, yet I never take the time to do it.  J has asked me for years when I'm going to write a book and make him rich (insert laughter here).
The truth is, I've always wanted to write a book, but I have never been inspired to do so.  I'm a pretty boring person, so "write what you know" wouldn't really work for me.  I'd have to have readers to sell a book, after all.  And novels with an underlying IF theme have been done.  So, I suppose until I have something of substance to share with the world, I'll just stay here in my little cozy corner of the Internet.  Barely noticed, yet very much connected to the readers that I know about.
Lincoln and I are going to soak up as much fun this summer as we possibly can.  We went to the movies today.  Yesterday, we put the same puzzle together 15 times.  Maybe it will eventually be warm and dry at the same time and we can go outside to blow bubbles and run around the house and slide (or, as he prefers, push all of out outside toys down the slide).  But I'll be around.  I check in on you all frequently - mostly during "bedtime" while I'm waiting for my little love to drift off to dreamland.  He likes to know I'm near.  So do I.

Squeezing in Memories

As I sit in Lincoln's room while he is drifting off to sleep on this eve of my 35th birthday, my mind is wandering in a zillion directions.  I've thought about what I was doing 10 years ago as I approached the quarter-century mark ( I hadn't even met J) yet.  I've thought about the first birthday I spent with Lincoln.  And as the smell of baby powder wafts from various items in the room, I know it will soon enough be replaced with "big boy" smells, and my heart is sad. I'm not ready to be done rocking babies, and I hate that I didn't get to choose it myself.  I think this has been my most dreaded birthday since my 21st-two weeks after my beloved aunt died suddenly of a heart attack.  

I won't rehash all of the things that this birthday "means," as it seems I've been whining about it in the past few posts.  I guess that just means it's weighed on my mind for quite some time, huh?  I know that age is just a number, and most people guess me younger anyway.  But it doesn't change the facts.  I just wish acceptance was easier.  

Lincn and I went to his favorite place yesterday-the grocery store (no joke).  Aside from putting his shoe back on fifteen thousand times, we had a good day.  Potty training is not going well.  He thinks we're being mean to him if we suggest he sit on the potty.  Tonight we got him a little prize and told him he could have it if he'd pee-pee in the potty.  Of course, I'm the meanie who wouldn't let him open it anyway.  He at least sat down.    Baby steps, I guess...