It's Official - We Have a Preschooler

Yesterday, Craig and I took the plunge and enrolled Murray in preschool.  Today, I received the call that there is room for him.  He starts in September.  When did my baby grow up?

Newborn Murray

I cried.  Shocker, right?  In case you didn't know, I'm an emotional person.  I cry.  A lot.

Anyway.

I'm not excited about this decision. 

Our daycare provider is so fabulous, I don't even know if I have words to describe her.  She was the first person I inquired to about daycare when we found out that I was pregnant.  She didn't have an opening at the time, but we waited. Waited impatiently.  We just knew how awesome it would be to put Murray in her care.  When she called to tell us that she had an opening, we were thrilled. 

Not only does she take better care of Murray than we probably do, but she teaches him - letters, numbers, manners, respect, the list goes on. Murray has absolutely THRIVED in her care.  She goes above and beyond, too.  She is solely responsible for him being potty trained at the age of two.  Or, when a few months ago, after Craig completely botched Murray's hair cut, she took the time to even it out and make it look nice.  Murray refers to she and her husband as his other Grandpa and Grandma, that's how much he loves them.  She is  the "child whisperer".  She makes him feel secure and loved, proud and confident; all of the things that we strive for Murray to feel and be.

And then there's the fact that he spends the day growing up with his cousin, who is only five days younger than Murray.  The two of them are attached at the hip, and yeah, they fight, but they're also best friends. 

Skating at night with their headlamps

So why make the change?  To tell the truth, I am against putting Murray in preschool.  I don't feel that he needs it.  I know I sound boastful, but the kid is pretty dang smart.  He does simple addition and subtraction, is learning to write the alphabet, and shows all the signs of reading readiness.  He's a social butterfly and gets along well (for the most part) with others.  He knows the days of the week and what a month is.

This is where Craig and I disagree.  I'm no expert, but I do know a bit more about education for young children than he (and he knows way more about math and computers than I will in ten lifetimes).  Still, Craig feels it's important for him to go to preschool, so I caved.  In September, Murray will attend  St. Joseph's Catholic School from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday.  Sniff.

As much as he loves his daycare, he's already talking about what he'll do at "schoouh" and carrying around a backpack and telling us he's leaving for "cwass" to "yearn" (maybe at least they'll help him with the "L" sound).  Clearly, I'm the only member of this family who isn't ready to have a preschooler.

The one thing we do agree on is that he attends Catholic School.  It's important to us.  Our parish, St. Joseph's is an amazing place.  We love it there, and know that Murray will thrive in such an environment.

We're thankful for everything that our childcare provider has done for us.  We have been truly blessed.  I'm glad we still have several months left with her.  It will be a big change for us, but hopefully, by September, I'll be on board.  Right now, I'm just not there.

He Knows, She Knows

Note:  Blogger must be having trouble.  Excuse the confusion.

After seven years of marriage, Craig and I seem to have each other's habits and preferences down pretty well. For instance:

He knows that margarine is not allowed in this house.  Butter only.
I know it drives him crazy when I don't refill the ice cube trays.

He knows that dog poop makes me vomit. 
I know that vomit makes him vomit.

I know that he hates it when I leave my reading light on at night.
He knows that I have a love/hate relationship with his snoring.

He knows that 'Roseanne' is one of my favorite TV shows.
I know he hates 'Roseanne'.

He knows I hate mayo and milk.
I know that he loves smoked oysters (those disgusting ones from a can).

I know that he is seriously in love with Kate Beckinsale.




Photo Credit:  http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Kate+Beckinsale&view=detail&id=1214527B734CC10C1008E3762EA3FF99A3AE4436&first=0


He knows that I would run away with Jon Bon Jovi.

Photo credit: http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=jon+bon+jovi&view=detail&id=CF8876F0C7DD13739710088FA00EFF91096D2DBC&first=0

I know how proud I am of his hockey/skating abilities.

He knows how funny it is to try to watch me skate backwards.

He knows how to make me laugh.
I know how to make him mad.

We're still learning about one another, in fact, every day comes with surprises. 

I wouldn't trade him for anything.

Nala and Murray

Goodbye, sweet girl.  You were loved, and now you are missed. 

Sweet Nala

Update:  Nala passed away this morning.  Good bye, sweet girl.

I love dogs.  I love animals.  I always will.  Our golden retriever, Nala,  is the one with her head in my lap.  She's very old, and very sick.

Sadly, she's dying.  Slowly, but surely.  She can hardly walk; and if she does, she walks sideways (her right side doesn't sync with the left side), she suffers from bouts of confusion, where she'll stand in the middle of the room or yard and stare at nothing.  She's also incontinent.  She needs to be carried up and down a flight of four stairs and looks just plain miserable.  I LOVE her.  But, I can't stand to see her in this much pain.  It's breaking my heart.  Why haven't we put her down?  There are several reasons.

We realized that her health was declining when she no longer stood in the yard and barked, nor did she chase a ball, or even care about treats, her favorite motivator.

The day after Thanksgiving, she had her annual check-up. I was certain that Craig was going to call and tell me that Nala wasn't coming home.  Surprisingly, our vet declared her "very healthy for her age." Three days later, she deteriorated rapidly.  Now, she doesn't move, she doesn't drink water, and  she will only eat canned Iams. That's on a good day, when we can coax her to eat.  This, from a dog that once ate a 20 lb. bag of dog food by herself.

Craig has cared for Nala since she was six weeks old.  They've been through a lot. I can't tell him what to do, because if I were in the same situation with Rudy, I would appreciate the same respect. 

I don't want to sound cold-hearted, but I feel like it's inhumane to keep her with us.  She's obviously suffering.  No matter what we try to keep her comfortable, we fail. 

Some say, she's "just a dog", but to us, she's one of our best friends.

It's time; it won't be long now until she isn't with us anymore.  As hard as it will be, it's really time. I'm so sad.  She will be missed. 

Tomorrow morning, I will take her to her vet. Again. I just can't stand to see her in pain, and DH just doesn't have the heart to do it himself.  Good night, sweet Nala.  You've been a joy.

-MM

SLOW...DOWN

A wise woman once told me to slow down. It's taken me years to figure out what she meant. 

I think I get it now, though to stop being in a hurry is easier said than done when you have a personality like I do.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not running around with my head cut off making sure our house is perfect (it's far from perfect), or sprinting back and forth checking laundry and fluffing pillows.

Although, I do have my moments.

For instance, give me a task and you'll never regret it.  When I'm in the mood or challenged, I won't disappoint.  If I feel like cooking, I'll go nuts in the kitchen.  If I feel like cleaning, everything from the baseboards to the tops of the windowsills will be scrubbed.  If I feel like doing laundry, I won't stop until every single article of clothing and linen is fresh, folded and in it's proper place.  The dog needs a walk?  We'll be back after five miles. Murray wants to do a project?  Never fear: I have an arsenal of art supplies and ideas.

But, this only happens when I'm in the mood.  I can be extremely organized, but I can also be extremely lazy. I find that the more organized I am, the more I'm allowed to be lazy.  Quite the catch-22, don't you think?

Let's get back to the wise woman who reminds me to slow down.  My Grandma. I've found that following her advice makes me enjoy whatever I happen to be working at, even if it's not a task that thrills me.  Because, when I slow down and take my time, I have pride in whatever it is I accomplish. And, if I take my time, well, you can imagine that things turn out quite a bit better than if I were in a hurry.  Slowing down takes a ton of practice (I even am trying to slow down my rate of speech), but each time I remind myself to take a deep breath and relax, I find so much more pleasure in accomplishing my goals. 

I love you, G.K. 

-MM

Four Years Old

Note:  I purposely did not show the faces of Murray's party guests, so as not to exploit children who aren't my own.  :)

Also, following is the addendum to this post.  I apologize for the delay.

When you were three, you loved to snuggle up with me and whisper secrets in my ear.

Not that you're four, you think it's great fun to give wet willies instead of whispering how much you love me.

When you were three, you loved to take a bath.
Now that you're four, you think baths are for babies and you prefer showers.


When you were three, Curious George made you laugh.
Now that you're four, you think tooting and smelly feet are hysterical. When you pass gass, you say, "Excuse me, a duck flew by." At least you say excuse me.

When you were three, we could answer your questions (kind of).
Now that you're four, you have us scratching our heads, searching for an answer that will suit you.

When you were three, you learned to count.
Now that you're four, you can do simple math. Yesterday you did 4-2=2 all by yourself. You are just like your Dad; you certainly didn't get the mathematical/analytical gene from me.

When you were three, you slept in your own room.
Not that you're four, you insist on sleeping on the floor in our room. You are so not sleeping in our bed. Unless you're sick.

When you were three, you weren't quite as independent.
Now that you're four, you play on your own more than you play with your Dad and me.

When you were three, your manners were impeccable.
Now that you're four, your're bossy and need to be reminded of good manners.
But, now that you're four, your Dad and I still think you are awesome. We love you, and always will.

But since your're four now, could you please remember to flush the toilet?

Happy 4th Birthday, Murray!

 Pony rides - introducing Izzy and Sari (Izzy is the pony)

 Cake

 Battery Operated cars

Photo credit:  Troy (a.k.a. J.P. #2)

Special thanks to our friends and family who spent the afternoon with us.  Also, thanks to Dakota Carriage Company for bringing sweet Izzy to our home.  

2 Kool 4 Skool

Note:  I've edited this about thirty times, so please, keep in mind that if you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes, well, it is what it is -nothing new.  I should put this disclaimer on every post.  :)

You're probably tired of reading about my back-to-school ventures, but since today was the first day of class, I couldn't resist just one more post on the subject (at least for a while).

I have been so excited for this new chapter in my life. 

Until yesterday.

I was quietly reading the Sunday paper, when out of the blue, cold fear washed over me.  I ended up in a doozie of a panic, moaning,  "What am I thinking?"  Since my Mom isn't around for me to whine at, I did the next best thing; I called my Grandma. 

As soon as I heard her voice, I promptly burst into tears.  I gave her my best "oh-poor me-I'll never get this-how will I manage-my family will suffer-I will be the biggest, oldest dork in class-and I'll fail miserably" speech.  She gently but firmly reminded me that I'm already a step ahead of the college game and pointed out the advantages that I have over so many others.  "One day at a time", she advised.  "When you've kayaked too far and think you can't make it back home, just remember, one paddle at a time.  You'll get there." "Savor each day and when you have bad days (and you will), focus on the end result and what you want out of this".  Such sound advice - I wish I could bottle it. 

After my talk with Grandma, I felt much better.  But then, those ominous hours of dark rolled around, and I found myself sleepless; so much so that I was awake most of the night imagining worst-case scenarios while I attempted to persuade my brain to take a break and rest.

I wrestled with sleep all night.  Craig didn't have to wake me up this morning because I was already on the couch, scaring myself silly.  When he came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed, at 6:30 a.m. and said, "It's time to get ready for school.", I wanted to reply, " No s***, Sherlock,  I've been been up all night scared out of my mind." But that wouldn't have been nice, so I bit my tongue and wearily headed for the shower.

By the time we were ready to leave the house, I thought I was going to throw up. I was shaking and my legs felt like rubber.  I was early for my 8:30 a.m. class, so I sat in Craig's office trembling, attempting to drink coffee without spilling it.  I reminded myself how ridiculous it was to be so scared, but sometimes anxiety isn't a reasonable force to reckon with.  Craig must have noticed the fear on my face, because he offered to walk me to class (I know, how sweet is that?).  On the way over, he reassured me that I would be just fine and that he would help me in as many ways that he could.  The guy has big shoulders (I have an amazing support system).  Good thing he has a degree in math and is brilliant (although, him tutoring me has the potential to cause serious marriage trouble).  As I write this, he's reading my math book with more enthusiasm than a raccoon raiding a cooler.   

I arrived at my first class and waited in the hallway because there were already students in the classroom. A lady at the front of the room was talking to students that were seated, so I assumed that the class prior to mine wasn't finished.  I soon discovered that she, too, was an O.T.A. (older than average) and just as scared as I.  I think I'll make her my new best friend.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, despite that I had a math (sigh) quiz on the first day.  It should have gone something like this:
a:  Marie is not the oldest person in her math class.
b:  Marie is definitely the oldest person in her other three classes.
c:  Who cares?
d:  Marie needs to buy stock in erasers.
d:  None of the above.
e:  All of the above.

Answer:  E
Write this down - there will be a test. 
-MM
P.S.  Murray has been saying things like, "when I get 31, can I come to your college?"  And, "Mom, I'm off to school to do my homework!" (while running around with my backpack)  I hope this is an encouraging sign for the future.

Older Than Average

Note:  Edited version.

I hate to say it, but autumn is upon us, which inevitably brings a new school year. One more week until classes begin for fall semester. It looks to be a long three years, but I think I'm finally ready to do the college thing - and do it well. (am I finally growing up?)


The start of school has always made me feel that I have a chance to begin again; a fresh start. It's a wonderful feeling, but it's also a bit intimidating.

Take, for instance, a kindergarten kid walking into class for the first time, or teenagers joining the ranks of junior high or high school. I remember it well -it's kinda scary to be the new kid.

At the age of 30-something, I'm going to be the new "kid" again. I'm diving back into the collegiate life as an older than average student. Now I'm the one who will have the awkward moments and feel unsure of myself. I will be out of fashion and I'll be the nerd who sits in the front row and writes down every word the professor says. I'll roll my eyes at what I think about my 19-year-old classmates ("like, did you go to the kegger at Alpha Omega Delta last night? Like, it was SO lame and can you believe, like, she wore that? Gross.) when really, I'm just a tiny bit envious.

Likely I'll be forced to do a group project with said young adults and they'll teach me some important life lessons. After all, I could use some education.

Wish me luck.

-MM

Grocery Store Helpful Hints

Recently I've taken on the chore of grocery shopping.  What was always Craig's task has now become mine - by choice - after all, why should he put in a long day and then come home only to run to Hornbacher's?  It certainly isn't my favorite household job, but I have a new appreciation for marketing.  Especially now that I'm addicted to cooking shows. 

Some things I've learned:
  1.  The best time of day to shop is late morning.  The shelves are stocked, the produce is fresh and there isn't a large crowd.  This is useful knowledge since I tend to get shopping cart rage.

  2.  People at this time of day (say around 10 or 11 a.m.) are more inclined to commiserate. There's something endearing about discussing how to ripen fruit or the quality of meat at the butcher.  No one is in a rush, we're all just taking our time perusing the aisles.  So refreshing compared to the hustle and bustle of a five o'clock trip to the store.

  3.  The cashiers tend to be a bit more relaxed and chatty.  I equate this to not having to deal with "happy hour" at the grocery store.  I should note that I've never, not once, had a rude clerk at Hornbacher's (which is why we shop there).

  4.  The employees who bag your items and put them in your car really do appreciate a tip.  Now if I could just get them to come over and put my groceries away.

  5.    It's best to make grocery shopping your one errand for the day.  Otherwise, you could lose a whole chicken and a liter of Coke in your truck (but this has never happened to me).

I still dislike buying groceries, but in a month or so I'll wish I had the time to make the trip.  Good thing Hornbacher's delivers.

-MM

It's Official

I'm officially a student again.  I have never been more excited than I am now.  Even for my math class.

It's so gratifying to know that this time, without a doubt, I will finally walk across that stage and accept my diploma.

I digress.  I'm getting ahead of myself.  It's going to be a long few years.  My family will suffer, my home will suffer, but I'll make up for it, I swear I will.

There are four people who have motivated me to get the job done:

  1.   My Mom.  While co-parenting with our Dad, and a separated family, she graduated from college at the age of 33 and had a successful career in law enforcement.  She also managed to be the best mom.

  2.  My Dad, who, with two small girls, finished college, married my Mom. After that, he finished his Master's degree. My Dad is pretty neat.

  3.  My sister finished her degree even though we were in the midst of our Mom being sick and then dying. She also just received a promotion (again) and is thriving being a paralegal.

  4.  My high school friend, Amanda, graduated from college a while back.  I was so impressed while following her journey.  I think it's awesome that she had to courage and tenacity to finish her degree.

I don't necessarily do things "perfectly" or follow society "rules", but I do have the best family and friends.  Thanks to you who have set an example. 

-MM

Spoiled with A Chance of Changes

Note:  Edited for error.

I have it pretty good these days.  I admit, I'm spoiled.

Since the unfortunate firing elimination of my position at work, I've had the time to be keep the house (fairly) clean and have dinner on the table when Craig gets home.  I'm on top of laundry and my organization skills are really coming along, as well they should, since I don't have an 8-5 job.

I love this time in my life.  It will be short-lived because - drum roll here - I will be a full-time student in a few short weeks (yeah, I know, again).  I love having extra time with Murray without rushing around in the morning and scrambling to get out the door (now I just scramble eggs).  I love that I have the time and energy to cook again.  I love having the time to read and write.  I love that every closet and drawer in our home is at least semi-organized.  I love spending more time with the hounds and keeping them brushed and looking good.  I love watching the Cosby Show in the morning and Oprah re-runs from in the afternoon while I fold laundry. 

The month of August will again bring changes and add a new dimension to our lives.  I wonder if I can be a good Mom, wife, and homemaker and a good student at the same time?  I'll let you know in a month or two.  Right now, I have clothes to put away and dinner to prepare.

-MM

A Taboo Topic (But Not Anymore!)

I'm pro-life. 

I have always believed so.  I didn't know how much I've believed until recently.

Have you ever had the experience that you are on the outside looking in?  Or have you ever just realized something different from what you thought after it happened to you?  How has it affected you?  What did you do (or would have done) differently?

The reason for my questions is what my good friend, Roxane has inspired me to ask.  Peace Garden Mama (a.k.a Roxane) puts abortion into a perspective that I am incapable of writing.  I thank you, Roxane, for allowing me to re-post your writing.  The words that follow are not my own, but they are poignant and true.
I see hope; the tenacity of a fragile stem ignoring what should be possible, pushing toward light despite the hostile environment it is bound to enter. 

This photograph speaks to me in a particularly vivid way right now, especially concerning a recent calling of the heart. Despite my intentions, I've been finding myself lately on the sidewalk in front of North Dakota's only abortion facility. Yes, moi, the gal who always thought her pro-life convictions would be best shared in a "safe" place. Through the written word, for example, or a radio interview, but certainly not as an active sidewalk-counselor-in-training.

About a month ago, I interviewed on our local Catholic radio station the woman -- Elizabeth McClung -- who helped effect the conversion of former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson to the side of life. When I listened to the podcast of that interview a few weeks later, I was jarred to hear myself telling Elizabeth that praying for life publicly "isn't for everyone." I was speaking about myself.

But then Abby came to Fargo and I had a chance to hear her story in person, both from her mouth and through her bestselling book, Unplanned. When I realized Elizabeth's prayers and the flowers and card she had offered Abby two years before her conversion had made a difference, despite many days, weeks and months of it all seeming futile, things changed inside of me. When Abby challenged us to not forget about what she'd shared, and insisted the women seeking abortions needed to hear our voices, I could no longer ignore the still, small voice within me.


Then again I might have, if not for my 13-year-old daughter, who'd also met Abby.


"Mom, can we stand out on the sidewalk again this Wednesday?" she asked a few days before "abortion day," the week following our meeting with Abby. It nearly took my breath away to hear her request, but I recognized the opportunity at once and knew I could not diminish it.


"Sure, let's do that," I said, not quite believing what was happening. Her young voice was rising above the din of my doubts, giving me courage to shoo away my timidity.


"No offense, Mom," she added, "but maybe, because I'm younger and all, I might make more of an impact."


"You know, you could be right about that," I said, not able to deny wisdom as it stared me in the face.


Indeed, her presence could well make a difference. It already had. The week before, as we stood there with the others praying in the rain, a car full of hecklers driving past yelled obscenities at us from our sidewalk perch.


"What was that?" she asked, turning to me. Then, in an impeccably timed moment, she added, "Oh, they must just be jealous of my good hair day."


It's exactly what I needed to decrease the tension and sadness I felt watching one woman after another walk into the facility, knowing she would come out a changed person, and not for the better. As one bumper sticker I read recently says: "Abortion: one life lost, another wounded."


This week I returned without my daughter, who was out of town, and though I'm still a sidewalk newbie, I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know where I can and can't stand ("Don't touch the green carpet!"). I've gotten to know some of the names of the abortion facility escorts; some of whom are very aggressive toward those who've come to pray, others who are quieter, perhaps new like me, just trying to figure things out.

And I've discovered that I'm not content to only pray, though prayer is certainly one of the most valuable things I can do. I've reached out to several of the escorts in an attempt to get to know them. One of them was very receptive this week. I know that everyone, no matter what side of the sidewalk they're on, truly believes they are helping women. But I also know that it can't be the case that taking life is ever a positive, and that I have entered the front lines of a war zone. Lives of the mothers, the babies, and all those who love them are at stake.

I can't completely explain what has compelled me to take up a post on this sidewalk of all the sidewalks in North Dakota, but I definitely feel it as a strong stirring, an urgent call to action, though certainly not one I would have willingly chosen.


Perhaps God has had this in mind for me for a long time, but I've only recently become ready. I'm beginning to think that might be the case. Regardless, I'm becoming bolder. I want to meet the workers of the facility and somehow, in whatever way I can, give them the same sense of hope I've experienced while looking upon a weed that refuses to give up on light
 
Thank you, Roxane, for touching on a sensitive topic. So many people are unable or unwilling to discuss abortion.  I can't preach that I'm an expert.  I know I haven't done enough to stop this.  But now I can be pro-active.  I'm joining my courageous and diligent friend, Roxane on Wednesday on the sidewalk.

Prayers to unborn babies and to the women and men who are confused.  There are always options.

If you'd like to see the original post, go to http://www.peacegardenmama.com/

A Figurative Slap In the Face

"There isn't an easy way to do this, so I'm going to jump in and say it.  Your position has been eliminated.  It has nothing to do with your performance, but as you know, the state is in financial crisis.  Therefore, we have to make some changes, and unfortunately, we have no choice but to let you go."

These were the words that slapped me in the face yesterday.  I walked into my meeting with the VP and AVP under the impression that I would be gaining added responsibilities and signing a contract (per previous discussions and emails with the bosses).  For millions of hard working people across America, similar conversations are taking place every day.  I've been lucky enough to have been "laid off" (for lack of a better term) three times in 18 months.  Times are tough.  I know that.  I also know I'm not alone.  But when you absolutely love your job, enjoy going to work every day, work your tail off and sacrifice time with your family, it really and truly is a slap in the face.

I'm lucky to have options.  I'm lucky to have a severance package.  I'm extremely lucky to have a husband with a career.  I have options.  Just when I finally thought I was working my way up the ladder, the ladder tipped out from under me and I fell off the roof. 

This isn't a blame game.  It's more of a written pity party.  I promised myself I wouldn't wallow, but instead of sitting here enjoying the sunshine, I'd rather be in my office, doing work I love.  Every time I think about it, the tears flow like the swollen Red River.  It's not that I want any old job; I want MY job.  I loved it.  I know, I know, there are billions of problems that are a lot worse than my little drama, but I'm going to wallow for a bit.  The only thing I know right now is that I'm going to turn this into something good.  I don't know how, but I will.  When God closes a window, He opens a door.  In the mean time, I'll fake it 'till I make it. 

Time to call the unemployment office and update my resume.  Here I go again.

I woke up this morning to warm breath in my face and a voice that asked, "Mama, do you have to go to work AGAIN?"  After I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes (it was only 5:45 a.m.) I replied, "Yes, Murray, I do have to go to work today."  With tears in his eyes, a pout on his lips, he asked, "But why, Mama?"  "I have to go to work so that I can make money to buy food and clothes and do fun things, I said."  With that, he cheered right up, took me by the hand and exclaimed, "Get in the shower, Mom, time to get to work."  Craig was outside the door laughing; who better to tell me to go to work than a 3-year-old?

It's been a busy week, but isn't it always?  I love it.  I love being busy, feeling productive, and even the challenges.  But the best part, despite the crazy, is appreciating the peace and quiet once in a while. 

Happy weekend!  May you find a few moments to find some "you" time.  And I hope you can enjoy it by the fire place with a good book.

"They Keep Moving the Cheese"

I'd like to begin by stating our utmost love and respect for the "F" family, you know that you are and will continue to be in our prayers.  We're with you all the way.

The title to this post is taken from a an excerpt in the book, "Who Moved My Cheese?", an inspirational and phenomenal look at change in the workplace.

Today was my first day at the Foundation.  Kim (whose job I will assume) is an amazing woman and an excellent trainer.  I met some of the students that I will be supervising and am looking forward to meeting the others on Wednesday evening.  I spoke with my soon-to-be boss today, and she and I will work on my job description as the month progresses.  My initial responsibilities include coordinating the annual Phone-A-Thon and the Campus Campaign.  Event planning is in the near future and I'm thrilled already at my new position.  The staff at the Foundation is fantastic and I'm thrilled to be a part of the team.  That said, I will miss my bosses and supervisors in the President's Office, but this is an amazing opportunity.  The chips landed in such a way that I just know that God is with me (not to mention all of those who went to bat for me).

Craig had his first outing today.  I drove Miss Daisy to his office and to Human Resources to complete some paperwork.  I think he had fun getting out, but I know he was pretty sore and tired when I deposited him back at home.  I feel so helpless; I'd rather it was me than him.

I didn't get to spend more than ten minutes with Murray tonight, but every second was precious.  When I walked in the door tonight, he shouted, "Mama, you came back!  You done with work?  I missed you!"  Words can't describe how my heart swelled.  I am an incredibly lucky woman.

Thanks to Jon and Troy for providing food and company for Murray and Craig tonight while I was away.   Everyone who has volunteered to help us out means a great deal, and don't be surprised if we take you up on your offers.  The meals and help with Murray are a real blessing, especially with my work transition.

Many, many thanks to all.
Blessings,
M
P.S. Did you know that I despise, detest, and loathe winter?

Changes, Fish and Other Random Thoughts

I know, I know, it's been forever. I believe I'm back in the swing of things. It takes time to adjust to many changes at once. What changes, you ask? Here you go:

I was happily employed part-time at GPIM, when I received a call from Human Resources at MSUM. Turns out, a position that I was in the running for two years ago opened up, and they asked if I would come in and interview. I did, got the job and two weeks later was off and running. My official title is Office and Administrative Specialist, Office of the President. Isn't that a hoot? I miss GPIM, but I'm having a ball now that I'm a dragon. My days are exciting and busy. Tonight I am to attend President Edna's annual Garden Party. She hosts a gathering at her home annually for MSUM's retirees. Since one of my responsibilities is to work closely with the Retiree Association, it's appropriate that I go and network. I'm looking forward to my first MSUM event. Bonus: Craig and I can have lunch together, and even walk to work together.

I suppose not much has changed, really, although I went from being unemployed, then employed full-time, then employed part-time and now I'm employed full-time again all in a few short months. That's a lot of transition in my book!

We had a wonderful Fourth of July weekend at the lake, despite packing everything but the kitchen sink. I remember the days when Craig and I would throw a small suitcase in the car, load up the dogs and off we went. These days, the truck is so packed there almost isn't room for us. Craig even purchased a trailer that hooks on the back so that we have more room. Even so, I'm usually squished in the passenger seat holding equipment and/or suitcases. Good thing it's only a 45 minute drive.

Speaking of the lake, the fish have really been biting this year. Either that, or we've been lucky. Last weekend I caught a 3-pound bass, and Craig and I both caught several northerns'. We didn't keep any this time around, but that just means they are back in the lake to catch again!

I think that's it for now. . .I better get to work. It's gonna be a long day. Have a happy and safe weekend!

My Next 30 Years

Initially, the thought of turning 30 terrified me. For those of you groaning audibly, let me explain. Not only am I entering a new decade, but it seems as though an era is slipping away. I've been pondering the inevitable for several weeks and I've come to a few conclusions. A trip down memory lane reminded me of how much I've learned; from living, from family, from friends, and even foes. Here are a few in no particular order:

1) Never burn bridges - no matter the temptation.
2) Keep an open mind - much easier said than done.
3) Money and status are of no importance as long as you work hard and be honest.
4) Love and hard work does matter.
5) I am responsible for my own happiness. I can't control the happiness of others, but I can be kind, caring, and compassionate.
6) Sometimes too much pride can be a negative. I've learned to be honest about who I am and I am okay!

Of course, I expect I'll forget these lessons from time to time (although I hope not to), and I expect that I have a lot more to learn. But the basics are there and with the guidance of God, family and friends, I'll keep growing. I've chosen to look at turning thirty as a blessing - the alternative is much worse!

Eye-YI-YI

Is that how you spell that?????

I am completely out of the loop, too tired to think, much less write, so please bear with me.

Quick catch up: Overtime, strep throat (me last week), more overtime, Murray sick (last week), Craig misses work and volunteer activities due to Murray being sick, I work overtime on the weekend, all is well. So we think. Murray gets sick again yesterday, I'm still working my tail off so Craig can't work, now Craig is sick and I feel like a lot of dirt has hit the fan. There are a hundred other things that I am praying for and worrying about, but it's hard to get out of the box when all I can do is run, take care of sicklings, including me; run, run, work, work, and never mind anything to do with our home chores. Honestly, "Little Miss Picky" has done a complete one-eighty - I can't keep up and if you come to our house, well, so be it if it's a huge mess.

Now that I have THAT off my chest, I will tell you that I am quite happy. I love, love, love my job - although it's bad timing for me to be working so much - but some things I can do at home (said things I'm doing now, but have taken a break to post). I'm still hoping that this will turn into something permanant. GPIM is just that fantastic. I love what we do, who we do it for, and even the everyday "drudgery".

That said, I'm off to see if DH needs more ibufrofen, water or cough drops. After that, I will check Murray's temp, give myself another dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen, finish a bit more work and FINALLY, hit the hay. Tomorrow begins our billing cycle, so the more I accomplish at home, the less stressed I will be in the morning (one can dream, but still, I love it).

Please, keep reading. I promise to post more when I can. Thanks for your loyalty.
God Bless you this Easter/Passover,
Marie

Open Forum

My site stats are way down lately, and I've narrowed down the reasons why to three:

1. I'm not posting enough
2. I'm posting too much
3. I'm just not that interesting

I recall that this happened about a year ago and wondered where everyone was. I think it's probably due mostly to reason number three, but I don't feel a bit bad about that. Blogging is my attempt to hone my writing skills, as well as vent, brag, question, connect and report. If I'm boring, oh well. Despite these sentiments, in an effort to encourage comments and readership, I have a new idea that I think will help my conquest. I am asking you to send me topic ideas for discussion. These can range from parenting to vacation spots to politics to rodents. Any idea is welcome. I don't care, I just want to make this blog a bit more fun and well, interesting! I will research anything you throw my way, so whatever it is you'd like to discuss, shoot me an email, pose a question or thought in my comment section, or find me on facebook.

The dogs are at the groomer at the moment and should be finished soon. I'm very excited to have them clean and most of all, less hairy. Plus, they both absolutely love to be groomed. They prance around like show dogs when I pick them up. Just my luck, it has to be raining today.

Don't forget to watch for the latest contest that I mentioned several weeks ago - I'm waiting until I reach 20,000 hits to my page.

With that, let's discuss!