Aprils A-to-the-Zizzle: J

J is for Jess.

Let's be honest, most of us who blog think we have something interesting to say, which means we think we're interesting people.  Some of us are mistaken, but hey, we can't all be winners.  As such, I figured what better way to prove how interesting I am than by dedicating an entire post to the awesomeness that is me?  (Humor me, guys.  I need the confidence boost.)

So, for the post ALL ABOUT ME, I decided to share with you guys some of the things that make me, well, me.

Louisiana

Ah, the southern state in all of its country, backward, deep-fried glory.  Born and raised here, I have spent many a day swimming in the creek, sucking the heads of crawfish (because that really is where the good stuff is) and parading down Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras (and yes, it's a ridiculous celebration, but we just can't seem to grow out of it).

As a teen I swore that someday I'd get the flock out of dodge and see the world.  Get away from the rednecks and their pickup trucks and rebel flags.  I was so serious about moving away that anytime a relationship got to the point where the guy started talking about the future I was like, "Later."  I wasn't planting any roots, no sir.  So what happened? I turned 19 and moved to Tennessee.  Because it's SO different from Louisiana.  Ha ha ha.  Truth:  the only differences between Louisiana and Tennessee are that the food is more bland, cars are MUCH worse and people say you'ins instead of y'all.  Oh, and Tennessee has hillbillies while Louisiana has rednecks (I have no idea what the difference there is).

Seriously though, I love Tennessee.  It's one of the most beautiful places in North America that I've seen. I lived there for a year, and I never got tired of the view. I did get tired of snow and ice on the roads.  Daredevil, I am not.  Plus my Dad lives there with my stepmom and my two baby half-sisters, so I enjoyed spending some actual time with them instead of a measly two weeks in the summer and week at Christmas. I made some great friends and gained some experience, but about seven months in I realized that - gasp! - I missed Louisiana.  What?! What was wrong with me?  I couldn't figure it out, but I couldn't deny it.  The 'ol bayou was calling me home.

The older I get, the more I appreciate my home state, and I notice more things now that are beautiful and unique about Louisiana.  The trees, for example.  Louisiana has some of the most whimsical, beautiful old trees. We all know the food is better here.  Basically I could talk about Louisiana and how great it is all day, but eventually you'd get bored.  If you just crave more, check out a previous post about Louisiana and the myths surrounding it here.

Family

Mine is big, loud, obnoxious and full of some of the most crazy and fun people I know. My mother's side of the family is the side I've spent the most time with in my life.  My grandmother was one of 13 (thirteen!!) children of a poor preacher/sharecropper and a full-blooded Seminole Indian.  They had an outhouse and almost never had meat to eat and spent a LOT of time at church. My grandfather is one of 5 children, and although my great-grandmother is still living at 95, I have no idea what she or my great-grandfather did for a living.  I do know great-grandpa collected tennis balls and sent them to children in Honduras.  His entire legacy is tennis balls.

My family on my father's side spends a great deal less time together.  My dad has three brothers, one of which lives in Tennessee near my dad, one in Oklahoma and the other in Maryland.  My uncles are great, and I wish I could see them more often.  (Long-distance family is one reason I'm thankful for Facebook. Otherwise I'd never get to talk to them.  For real. Like, ever.) My dad's parents passed away in 1996 and 1998.  They had a doll shop and made porcelain dolls.  It was the coolest place, and my grandparents would take me with them to the shop and teach me how to use the kiln, how to paint the faces and dress them.  I always considered myself their favorite grandchild, and I suspect I was right because they called me Miss Priss, and the doll shop was called Miss Priss.  My dad and uncles gave me the stained glass shop sign after my grandfather passed away.  It is one of my most treasured possessions.

Altogether (counting step-family, because they're awesome and I consider them real family), I have eight uncles, eight aunts, twenty-one first cousins, seven second cousins, two brothers, four sisters, my mom, my dad, my stepmom, four grandparents, and one great-grandmother.  Whew.

Then you have MY family; that is, my husband, me and our two daughters.  I blogged about them the other day, so you know they are my whole world.  Hubs is my Prince Charming, my rock, my supporter, my sexy stud muffin   He's also a wonderful father.    My kids are hysterical, frustrating, sweet, beautiful, precious little  fascinating people.  Their personalities are so completely different, but they're best friends and are so much fun.  It's such a joy watching them grow and start to figure out who they are, what they like and don't like, what their interests are.  I love every moment of it.

Faith

Like I said, my great-grandfather was a preacher, and my family has always been very involved in church activities.  As a child I probably spent more time at church than anywhere else.  Now, as an adult, my faith is extremely important to me, and I am actively involved in my church.  It is also important to me and Hubs that our kids are raised in church and know about faith and God and heaven.

My oldest child, at 5, is super-curious about where exactly Heaven is, and why do people go there, and what do they do there, and on and on and on.  It started when my stepfather passed away in 2011.  It was very sudden and she had a difficult time with it.  She was Papa's girl, so when one day he was there and the next day he wasn't, she felt very frustrated and confused and sad.  She reminds us frequently that Papa was sick and Jesus made him better, which makes her happy.  That happiness helps the rest of us to deal with it.

Each person is entitled to their own personal beliefs, and I would never force my opinions on anyone else.  If you want to know what I believe, ask me and I'll be more than happy to share it with you.   :)

History

My major.  My hobby.  My future career.  It's all wrapped up in History.   I love it, I can't get enough of it, and I can't shut up about it.  It's like this gigantic collection of stories - romance, war, comedy, mystery, drama - all rolled up into one book called Us.

There were so many fascinating characters throughout History: some leaders of nations, others seemingly insignificant people who contributed to the world in some way or left their words to help us better understand an event.  An everyday Joe who happened to be in the right (or wrong) place at the right (or wrong) time could change the course of history.  A guy who put his 99 arguments against the Catholic Church on the door of the church because nobody was home, forgetting the next day was a national holiday and EVERYBODY would be attending church....(led to the Protestant Reformation, btw.  Just in case you missed that day of class).   A little Jewish girl whose family was hiding from Nazis during WWII and kept a journal of what was happening around her... The son of a candle maker who went to work with his older brother at a printing press and learned to write, only to later be named one of the founding fathers of a nation...

Each example of one person who made a contribution to our world's history is a story, and each story is available to us to study, to learn and appreciate.  My hope is to share that love and excitement, so that others will develop an affection as well.

So, Louisiana, Family, Faith and History - four things that play a major role in who I am.  Of course there's a great deal more to me (my love for comedies, Aerosmith and vanilla oreos, for example), but you guys don't have time for that.  Neither do I, for that matter.  You'll just have to settle for a sneak peek of Jess.  For now....

April's A-to-the-Zizzle Challenge: A-F (playing catch-up)

Apparently April is the month for the A-Z challenge.  This confuses me because there are 30 days in April, and only 26 letters in the alphabet.  Or are we using the Spanish alphabet, what with the double l's and r's and the n with the little curvy dodad over it?  Maybe the challenge just ends on the 26th?  Either way, it's 26 days of predetermined post requirements, and who am I to go against the masses?  Plus, since I'm just now getting back into the blogging habit, I figure it'll do me good having to post every day.  Practice makes perfect, they say.

Since it's already the 6th, I guess I'll have to do letters A-F today to get caught up.  Here we go....

A is for Adolescence

Oh, the misery of it all.  The acne, the hormones, the new hair growing everywhere.  Boys start smelling really bad when they sweat. For girls, Shark Week (that's what Hubs calls it) shows up and becomes a regular occurrence.  Also, Mother Nature, being the mean old hag that she is, decided to play a joke on girls by making most of us grow faster than the boys our age, so we're taller than them for at least two years.  So. Awkward.

Aside from the body changes and the challenges of being unable to wear heels to school dances because you're already three inches taller than your date, I loved those so-called awkward preteen years.  I enjoyed my youth in general.  School, sports, dances, romance (remember spending an hour coloring a note and then folding it in those weird ways? I couldn't do that today if I tried), sleepovers.  I loved it all.  Every moment.  I especially loved being twelve because that's when N'Sync came on the scene and my love for Justin Timberlake was born.  There I was watching Carson Daly on Total Request Live (you know, back when MTV actually played music) when suddenly there were five dudes in color-coordinated outfits, dancing and crooning about wanting some girl back.  Before long my walls were covered with posters of JT and his crew (next to posters of Leo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, of course).

I gotta say, for me, adolescence wasn't all that bad.

B is for Bacon

The obsession with bacon has me completely bumfuddled. I mean, what's the big deal all of a sudden?  Why is everyone so infatuated with fried pig? It's not like this is a new invention. The hooplah is absurd.  Bacon socks, bacon wallet, bacon band aids, I heart bacon t-shirts? You can even buy bacon flavored toothpaste.  Disgusting.  And then there's the memes.  My God, the memes.  They're everywhere.  I can't even go on Facebook anymore without seeing some bacon-related photo.   I'd blame Lady Gaga for starting it with that hideous dress, but I don't think she can take full credit for the fad.

STOP THE MADNESS.

People, don't you know this greasy food made from a nasty animal is a major contributor to heart disease? It's bad for you.  Bacon = bad.  I think we need to apply some Pavlovian techniques and do negative association with bacon for people.  Maybe taser them every time they eat bacon, or poke them with needles each time we show them a picture of a bacon platter.  I'd head this operation up. I'd start with my teenage cousin and her best friend, who lead the pack in bacon debauchery.  They have bacon tube socks, earrings, shirts, wallets and bacon flavored popcorn. I think I'll use the taser on them...

C is for Craig Ferguson

I've mentioned this good-looking Scottish funny man previously because he's on my List.  You know, the list of celebrities I'm allowed to hook up with without Hubs divorcing me? Yes he's a bit older, but I think it just adds to his attractiveness.  The man is fun to look at, and even more fun to watch.  He's hysterical.  I watch his show every night. Some people don't get it, and I understand that.  You either love him or you hate him (kind of like Jim Carrey).  Hubs and I went and saw him in Gulfport, Mississippi last year.  He puts on a fantastic show.  He's a little dirty, but what Scotsman isn't?

I also love the fact that he lends his voice to animated films.  Guys who are children at heart are even hotter to me.  That's why I love Hubs.  He's just an overgrown child. (Don't tell him I said that, though I suspect he already knows.)




D is for Degree

As much as I desperately wanted to go straight for the obvious, easy topic - Downton Abbey - I would really rather dedicate an entire post to this most beloved series.  As such, I chose to go with something a little more personal.

I will graduate in May (42 days to be exact) with my Bachelor of Arts degree in History.  I am SO excited to finish this degree.  After a 6-year hiatus from college, I feel so proud of myself for going back and completing it.  Many people doubted whether I'd be able to do it with two small children, a husband, a house and a job to keep up with, as well as the many duties I have with my church, but I proved the naysayers wrong, and have managed to do fairly well; I've made the President's List every semester.  Mostly I'm thrilled to end this chapter because I will be beginning a new one in the fall:  Graduate School.  My new goal is a Master of Arts in History, along with certification to teach.  With that degree I'll be able to teach high school level or college courses while I go on to complete my Ph.D. later on.  Here's to progress!



E is for Europe

I went last summer on a study abroad trip, and loved every minute of it.  Our trip was called "Operation Overlord," and was an 8-day adventure beginning in London and ending in Paris.  We followed the path of the WWII Allied forces from London down to Portsmouth where we crossed the English Channel into Normandy, toured the beaches and cemeteries, then made our way into Paris.

I plan to give y'all a full recap of the trip in the near future, so I won't divulge too much right now, but I can say that it exceeded every expectation I had, and I made some fantastic friends on the trip.



F is for Family

Mine is crazy, frustrating, hilarious, ridiculous and the most precious thing in my life.  Hubs is my Prince Charming, for sure.  He and I have a marriage that many of our friends envy.  You always hear horror stories about marriage, and the list of marriage jokes is endless.  We truly do have a fantastic relationship, though.  Of course I nag him here and there, but the man has the patience of a saint.  He just says, "Okay, sweetie," then goes back to whatever he's doing and does whatever it is I was fussing about later.  Sometimes he drives me crazy because he leave his dirty clothes and towels on the floor of the bathroom and I'm starting to think he actually forgot where the dishwasher is, but other than that he's golden.  He's always kissing me, and we laugh together all the time.  We're best friends, and I know that's a lot of why we're so solid.  Also, I'm pretty hot.  Who wouldn't want this?

My daughters are a handful.  They're loud and hyper and so demanding of my time, but I treasure every moment of it.  I love every hug and kiss, especially since I've noticed that the older they get, the less inclined they are to voluntarily give them out.  The sweetest words in my world are, "I love you, Mommy."  They get along really well, which is odd for me because my older sister and I fought constantly as children. For real, like 24/7.   It was awful.  My girls are always playing together, and though they do get into little arguments here and there ("Don't touch me! Mom, she's touching me!"), for the most part they have a great time together.

Alright, enough of the sap.  Moral of the story: my family is precious and I am blessed to have them.


Well there you have it.  Days 1-6 of the April A-Z challenge rolled into one.  Later taters!

See, what happened was...

I thought once I finished finals it would be rest and relaxation, maybe a little Christmas shopping here and there...

Afraid not.

First, the DAY I finished finals, Hubs came down with strep throat.  Over the weekend, Hayden started running high fever...trip to the ER revealed she also had strep throat.  Then, two days later, Anna catches it.  So I spent most of last week taking care of three sick children.  (Note:  Hubs is actually 28, but when he's sick, he might as well be a five-year-old.  Males.)

A couple of visits to doctors later, Hubs and kids are feeling better. 

Yay. 

In between taking the kids to the doctor and babying Hubs I was super-busy at work planning and decorating for our annual Christmas dinner.  My boss, the Pastor, is older and apparently has an abundance of free time to come up with these crazy schemes and decoration ideas - this would normally be cool, but since I'm the secretary, that means I'm the one who has to try and make his ideas come to life.  These ideas usually take two or three days to complete. 

Luckily I'm brilliant and was able to pull everything together, and our dinner on Thursday night was a smashing success.  Yay.

Friday I cleaned house, finished Christmas shopping, wrapped presents and started packing for us to spend the weekend at Hub's parent's house in Baton Rouge.  All in all a great day, especially when Hubs brought in the mail and I discovered a letter from my school informing me I made the President's List. 

Woohoo! 

I was so excited and moved that I cried.  It sort of felt like validation for me - letting myself know that hey, I can actually do this - even with a husband and two children and a home to take care of and a job to keep.  Just call me Superwoman. 

I rode that high all the way through the weekend, and I'm still feeling pretty giddy about it now.  Hubs put the letter on the fridge, which is adorable and lets me know he's super proud of me.  

Our "Christmas Weekend" with Hub's family went well.  The girls received entirely too many gifts, as usual.  We hit the jackpot with cash prizes and some gift cards and pretty awesome gifts.  Made it back home this afternoon, had lunch at my grandparent's house, watched the Saints lose to the Ravens (boo) and then went to church for our Christmas Candelight Service.  

Whew.  

So, that's what I've been up to - not that y'all really cared.  This vacation is turning out to be not so much a vacation as much as more work for Jess.  How strange.  

Pizza, dreams and 2am craziness: A true story

Those of you who don’t have kids, let this be a cautionary tale. For those of you who do have kids, this will probably just be amusing.

It’s a confusing story - and I, myself, still have yet to completely wrap my head around it (probably due to sleep deprivation). So bear with me.

Here goes.

I don’t know if it was because of the pizza we ate for dinner last night, or my having watched the entire second half of season one of Gossip Girl, but my subconscious decided to give me strange dreams. When my dream began (or when I became aware of it) I was hanging out with Serena, Blair, Chuck and Dan at various social events, mocking the poorly dressed.

Then, suddenly, I was at a church about to renew my vows with my husband. I was angry with him because for some reason he had decided to dye the back of my hair (only a very small portion) pink, blue and purple as a joke. This is not something my husband would ever do, which made things considerably more confusing.

That strangeness transformed into a gathering of hundreds of people - some from my past, some current friends, some tv show characters. We were all waiting for something, but I never figured out what. My dream was interrupted by the bloodcurdling scream of my two-year old.

I remember being in dreamland and vaguely hearing my daughter scream. It was just loud enough to wake me up a bit. I lay in bed, disoriented but starting to gain my bearings, when my daughter screamed again. Some instinct inside me triggered, and I flew – more like pole-vaulted – out of the bed. (I say pole-vaulted because I have to climb over my husband to get out of bed, but I never even touched him.)

As I ran down the hallway, I could see light coming from their room. FIRE was the first thought, and if it’s even possible, I moved faster. I burst through the door, and then stumbled to a stop.

Hayden had woken up and apparently decided that she didn’t want to sleep anymore. She had turned on the bedroom light and preceded to start throwing toys into Anna’s crib, which woke her up as well.

So now I’m standing in the middle of my daughters’ room, wide awake myself, with my heart beating out of my chest, trying to make my brain work long enough to decide what to do with this.

Once reason returned, I did the logical thing and put a Disney movie on with the sound turned completely off, turned the lights back off, put the girls in bed and prayed they would just fall back asleep after watching the movie for a few minutes.

It worked.

Unfortunately for me, my brain insisted on replaying the entirety of my crazy dreams over and over again, mixed in with the midnight screaming/fire/children fiasco, which once I fell asleep made my dreams even more odd.


Ah, motherhood.

Motherhood

For centuries motherhood has been considered one of the most difficult and rewarding "jobs" a woman can have. There have been discussions, books, and classes about being a mother. Mothers get their own holiday. Celebrities are either praised or bashed in the press as a result of their mothering abilities. Some women choose to be stay-at-home moms, others take on the task of career and mother. There are young mothers, old mothers, adoptive mothers, foster mothers, and even godmothers (the last of which doesn't really count unless it's a birthday or holiday).

Ever since I was a teenager I knew I wanted to be a mother someday. My two younger half sisters were born when I was 10 and 12, and after helping take care of them - albeit only two weeks out of the year - I figured I would be pretty good at it. I spent a great deal of time with younger cousins and babies at church. I even nannied a child my senior year of high school. Based on what I considered to be a respectable amount of time caring for children, I assumed motherhood would be a breeze for me.

I never presumed to be an authority on child care, so whenever having conversations (ie: debates) about said subject I would give my opinion but never insinuate that I knew more than the women who actually had children. Obviously I had made decisions beforehand about how I would raise my children - rules I would enforce, which areas I would be lenient, etc. More than once after my mother and I had argued I promised myself that I would not do "this" or "that" when I had kids. In the early stages of our relationship, my husband and I discussed what we did and did not want for our possible future children. We discussed raising them in church; we talked about schools. We agreed on many different areas such as punishment, encouragement and taking interest in their hobbies.

When we found out I was pregnant with our first child, suddenly everything we knew (or thought we knew) about child care suddenly seemed insufficient. We were actually going to be responsible for the raising and molding of a person. We would influence their beliefs and outlooks. It felt like a lot of pressure. I was still confident though, that I would have no problems with the day-to-day care and management of a child and any future children.

Our first daughter, Hayden, was born January 2008. We happened to be staying with my mother and stepfather during that time, so my mother was right there with me, helping me adjust to being a new mom. Feedings, diaper changes, naps, play time. The hardest adjustment was definitely the sudden lack of sleep. Again, mom stepped in and kept the baby a night here and there so we could rest. God bless her. I had hardly even begun to adjust when we found out I was pregnant with baby number two. Since Hayden was still pretty easy to handle, we figured "hey, what's one more?" Ha. Because babies go through so many changes their first year and we were so busy with Hayden, it seemed like Anna got here in no time flat. She was born in December 2008. Our two and only children, born eleven months apart.

2009 for us was pretty smooth, as far as managing two babies goes. Anna came out a great sleeper, so she was a breeze. Hayden was sleeping through the night at a year old, so we got a great deal more sleep at night. It took a while for Hayden to adjust to this new little baby. She didn't quite understand why she couldn't play with Anna like she did with her baby dolls. We fell into a nice little routine, and I thanked God that I wasn't always fighting the urge to pull my hair out or run away screaming like some mothers claimed to. Then Hayden turned two.

To be honest, I never expected Hayden to go through the "terrible twos" phase. She has been, since her birth, one of the happiest babies I've ever known. I'm not just saying that because she's mine. Other people can vouch for me. She has been the smiling, dancing, plays-well-with-others, "oh, she's such a good baby" child. Never fusses in public, never mean to other kids. Then about two weeks before her birthday, something changed. She started bullying Anna by hitting or pushing her, stealing toys and being extra jealous of her. Suddenly she didn't want to mind as well.

On top of Hayden's small personality adjustments, Anna turned one and seemed to suddenly realize that she's now big enough to get into everything, throw mini-tantrums and fight back when Hayden bullies her (I don't entirely blame her on the last one). My girls went from easy and happy all the time, to easy and happy most of the time and the rest of the time making me want to pull my hair out and run away screaming.

Don't get me wrong here. I absolutely adore my children. I love being a mother. Ninety-nine percent of the time I find myself fighting back tears watching them play (nicely) together, when one of them climbs up in my lap or when I watch them sleeping. Random moments when I just feel overwhelmed at how precious they are and how much I love them. I thank God every single day for them. Sometimes, though, I just get so frustrated with them. They'll be having one of their days, and I'll be having one of mine, and I'll get fed up with them fuss too much.

Almost immediately I feel terrible. I feel like an awful mom. The guilt weighs on me and I promise myself that I will be more patient. I'm sure as far as "fussing" goes, I'm one of the less fussy people I know. I'm pretty patient with people in general. I'm very slow to anger, and always quick to get over it. It's like my kids just know how to push my buttons. Well, them and my husband. I wonder if I'm alone on this one. Do any other moms go through this? Maybe by Mother's Day I'll have figured it out.

Ah, motherhood.