Will you go to prom with me?

Yesterday's post I was all like "oh, I'm old.  Oh so old."  Well, today's post is somewhat similar.  It's amazing what things have changed with high school.  Seriously.  Here's a case in point:  did you know that the asking of the prom is apparently this huge deal?  In fact, one of my employees who has a daughter in high school was telling me about the extravagant measures her daughter's boyfriend went to in order to ask her to prom.  And apparently this isn't exactly a random occurrence.  One boy, she told me, put up signs along a highway leading up to "Will you go to prom with me?"  I mean, really? 

 

These are called promposals.  John Stewart on The Daily Show was actually making fun of this practice just the other day.  It is sweet, don't get me wrong, but these boys (and girls, too) are going to such huge measures you would think they were asking someone to marry them.  Isn't the whole prom thing supposed to be the bigger deal?

 

Apparently the promposal isn't just for someone asking a date who they aren't officially in a relationship with, too.  Boys and girls who are so-called "boyfriend and girlfriend" are expected to do this, too.  I'm sure if you were a guy, and you didn't do some grand gesture of asking someone to go to a high school dance with you, you would be considered lazy or I don't know, a bad guy? 

 

I hate that I sound like one of those "Back in my day...." old person.  BUT...back in my day, if you were in a relationship with someone in high school the whole prom thing was a given.  And if you asked someone to go to a dance, well...you just asked them.  That whole process in and of itself is intimidating.  Now you have to come up with some creative and huge idea to do this?  Isn't the dance the bigger part of the whole "fun" experience? 

 

I don't know...it just seems kind of weird to me.  I'm always asking my 16 year-old nephew about what the "young people" are doing these days, and it blows my mind.  1) Because I was 16 when he was born, and here I am asking him what high school students do; 2) he has a girlfriend?  When did he get old enough for this? and 3) Why are things like this such a big deal? 

 

I don't know.  I'm coming upon 13 years out of high school, 10 years out of college.  My senior prom was in 1999.  It was a lot of fun and a wonderful experience with my boyfriend at the time, but did he need to write out "will you go to prom with me" in balloons outside my bedroom window so that it was the first thing I saw that morning?"  No...a simple "Hey, want to go to prom?" really was all I needed.  Actually it was more like "I'm purchasing tickets to prom, do you want to purchase the tickets to the next day after-prom thing?"  But what would I know...I'm old.  Hell, I learned to type on a typewriter, after all!

 

Want to see me going to senior prom?  Here you go!  Don't I look so youthful and vibrant? 

 

 

     

Going old school

Sometimes when I'm driving to work, and of course when T isn't in the car because he'd mock me, I listen to K-Love.  I used to roll my eyes at the mention of Christian music, but I've started listening to it just to get a little inspiration.  Plus, it's calming, and when Aubrey is able to talk more clearly, I'd rather not have to worry about her singing about Taylor Swift's most recent breakup or God knows what.  Of course, she is starting to mimic noises so I'm best to play it safe. 

 

 

Anyway, that isn't the point I was wanting to make.  The morning hosts were talking about how some high schools are going back to having students use typewriters.  The reason for this was that students would be more careful when they type and not make mistakes. (Remember the correction tape?) and would focus since they wouldn't have access to the Internet.  I, personally, think this could possibly be a good idea.  I was the last class in my high school to taking typing as a class and do it on a typewriter.  It was an electronic typewriter, mind you, but still...we had to feed in the paper, mark the margins, and for the entirety of the class we worked on letters, memos, etc.  I hated the correction tape.  I'm a fast typer, but I tend to make a lot of mistakes.  You would get a mark for each time you used correction tape, and honestly, there were times when I got F's because I had to use too much tape.  I was a straight A, honor student, and I got F's in typing.  You had to finish a certain number of assignments during the 45 minutes we had class, so there was always that sense of urgency.  Plus I tend to stress out in general when given a timeline like that.  So I made mistakes.  But it did make me have to really watch what I was doing.  So I can see the benefit to this. 

 

 

The part about less distractions is also true, too.  Who hasn't started working on something only to switch over to the Internet to just waste time?  I know I'm probably an extreme case of this with my short attention span, but kids do the same thing.  Working on a typewriter would make someone have to really focus on the job they are doing.  I don't know...I guess I can see good and bad to it, though.  Because it doesn't really teach them how to use the latest software so it is kind of antiquated.  But the meaning behind it is good, in theory.

 

 

It's hilarious because when I tell T that I learned to type on a typewriter he immediately laughs.  His family was one of those first ones that had a computer in the home, and he went to a private school that had computers.  I guess our school was just one year behind his or what not.  Who knows?  The two staff attorneys in my office who are about 5 years  younger than me think this is hilarious, too, and I get lots of "man, you are OLD!" comments.  (I am NOT old, by the way.  Thirty-two is the new twenty-two, right?)  But just hearing that story this morning made me reminisce because that's exactly how life was like when I was in ninth grade.  I wonder what schools are actually doing this.  I mean, don't most classrooms now let kids have iPads anyway?  My 10 year old niece and nephew could probably school me on what they know with the computer.  Maybe I am old....I mean my sophomore year I did take a spreadsheet class called Lotus 123 (I had a hard time with errors in that class, too.).  I'm not even sure that software is around.  I can use Excel but only to the point where I can do simple tasks.  I'm nowhere as experienced at it as T.  But I'm an attorney.  What do I need with Excel anyway? 

 

So what do you think of this "revolutionary" idea?  Think maybe this is sparking a movement?  Maybe they'll bring back cassette tapes.  I mean, back in college I did have to use cassette tapes for Spanish class.  God, I AM old. 

 

Motivation lost?

Have you ever had one of those weeks where you look at your calendar and want to just hide?  Yeah, that's me this week.  I'm more than ready to just skip over this week and not have to do a thing.  But, alas...it's not possible. 


This week I'm looking at working past closing time, conducting legal clinics in outside counties and busting my butt to get two grants completed before Friday.  It's looking a little intimidating.  I'm sure I can get through it, but it's going to take some motivation and focus.  And time.  Last week I did have one good day when I got a ton of things done.  The next day?  Yeah, um, not so much.  I did manage to get two blog posts written and signed up for The Examiner.  Oh and join BlogHer.  But actual work?  I just couldn't bring my mind to do it. 


I wrote a post on BlogHer about my questioning whether I had Adult A.D.D.  Some people joke about that, and I've been known to joke about having A.D.D. before.  But, you know, I'm honestly I do believe there is some truth to it.  Focusing on one specific task at a time is something I've struggled with, not so much as a kid, but it's gotten worse as I've gotten older. 


But, as Sweet Brown says "Ain't nobody got time for that!" 


I've got things to do, money to get, and check marks to be made on my "To do" list.  I'm thinking maybe I can make sure that no matter what I actually do accomplish at least.  I think it's the enormity of the list that gets me.  And the fact that for awhile there, the deadlines were in the distance.  But now they are here.  So it's shit or get off the pot time. 


Personally, I blame Pinterest.


I'm struggling, too, with doing it all.  I've made the decision that I want to get back into writing, which meant reviving my Examiner account, dedicating more time to blogging, but at the same time doing Mary Kay, getting work done, housework done, and more importantly, spending quality time with T and Aubrey.  So.....yeah.  Now that I've just typed all of that, I'm wanting to hide. 


But I can't, I must press on.  And that, my friends, is my motivation this week.  Let's do this!


Since I've talked about it twice now in this post, I am the Examiner writer for the Johnson County Indiana Courts System.  I started this back in 2010 but took a break for medical reasons and then pregnancy reasons and...then for Aubrey.  It got out of hand.  So please, check out my articles if you get a chance.  I'm at:  http://www.examiner.com/user-byersals.  Click "subscribe" to get notices when stories are out.  I hope to get an additional topic soon - TBA! 

My aversion to pets

 

 

This week's Spin Cycle, brought to you by Gretchen at Second Blooming is on pets.  I don't have a ton of experience in this area.  We never had dogs or anything growing up.  I was actually scared of dogs and still am somewhat of the bigger ones.  The only pets I have had are of the rodent variety.  I didn't become extremely attached to them.  In fact an experience I had in 2008 permanently scarred me from having these kinds of pets ever again.  Sorry, Aubrey, but no way in hell am I having a guinea pig.  Never ever every.  I've written about this in the past, but I'm recycling the post in honor of this Spin.  So without further ado....this is a post I actually wrote for Gretchen's Spin Cycle back on July 27, 2012, on comedy:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This week's Spin Cycle, brought to you by Gretchen at Second Blooming, is one on comedy. I, unfortunately, don't have any jokes to share. However, this week I'd like to share with you something that happened to me in 2008. It was one of those situations where it was only funny after the fact. But now, I find it downright hilarious.

It has to do with guinea pigs. And why I will never ever own one again.

Back in 2007, I read this article that said people who have pets live longer and are less lonely. I was living on my own at the time, so I decided to get a pet. I didn't want to jump into the commitment of having a cat or dog, so I chose a guinea pig. I had hamsters when I was younger and a guinea pig in law school so I figured I could handle it. So I went to Pet Smart and picked a black and white guinea pig. The teenager who helped me checked the boy/girl area and determined she was a she. So I named her Ruby. I brought her home in hopes that she would make my apartment just a little less lonely.

Well, she didn't really do much. She just sat there, was never really active. So at the suggestion of a friend, I got Ruby a roommate. I went to Pet Smart again, and a different teenager helped me and gave me another female guinea pig. I named her Pearl. I happily took her home, and I quickly introduced her to her new BFF Ruby. And as soon as I put Pearl in the cage, Ruby chased her down and immediately got on top of her. I, of course, freaked out so I called my brother, who had guinea pigs of his own. "Is this normal? It seems weird." I told him. But he reassured me that it was totally normal. Ruby was just establishing her dominance. So I took that advice for what it was worth and life went on as normal.

Pearl began to grow and got a little chunky, but she was so young when I bought her so I thought nothing of it. That is...until....

Easter evening, when I came home from my parent's house, I entered my apartment and took a quick glance at the cage. And I saw them. Three little balls of fur. Sitting there all huddled together in the cage in a corner. What. The. Hell. I ran over to the cage, and sure enough, baby guinea pigs. How in the hell did this happen? I frantically called my brother, and as soon as he answered the phone, I let him have it. "You said that Ruby was establishing dominance!" He told me to calm down and asked what was going on. "Babies! There are babies! You said that Ruby was just establishing dominance. But they were doing it! They were doing the nasty in my living room. Right in front of me. God!" He started laughing, and I told him that this was no laughing situation. "Balls of fur! Balls of fur every where!" He continued laughing and said "well, it's an Easter miracle!" "This is an Easter disaster!" I yelled. I kind of freaked out not remembering what species of animal ate their young shortly after birth. Did guinea pigs do that? How much longer did I have? So he asked, well, which one is the male? You need to get him out of there. Which one was showing maternal instinct?  "I don't know which one is a he. They're ignoring them.  Britney and Kevin are just sitting over there in a corner away from their children. No one is being maternal!" "Well pick them up and look." "Hell, no, I'm not digging around their junk!  That's disgusting!" "Well, put your hand in there, and the mother should go to her children." I reached in there, and instinctively, Pearl moved my direction towards the kids. So it was Ruby. Ruby was a he. Ruby was a Rudy. Or a Ruby was sexually confused. I didn't know.  And I didn't have a cage to put him in. So I quickly ran and got a trash can from my bedroom, threw out the trash and put him in it. "Dammit, I have to go. I have to get something to put him in." So I hung up on my brother and rushed out the door to buy supplies. Food, an extra cage or something to put Ruby/Rudy in and food. I'd figure out the details later.

I found a plastic Rubbermaid thing I used to keep Ruby/Rudy in. I put him next to the other cage so he and Pearl could share prison visits but no conjugal ones. The next day I called a vet's office to ask what I could do. Apparently, you have six weeks to keep the kiddos with their mom because they still nurse off of her, but you best be getting rid of them at six weeks because then the boy kids will start having some Oedipus complex and will start procreating with the mother. Gross. So I took the entire cage to the vet, as well as a picture of them to see if the vet staff could help find homes for them. I can't recall which ones were boys or girls. I didn't really care so I named them Marsha, Jan and Cindy. One of them had a bit off ear, probably when the mother was "giving birth" or whatever guinea pigs do. So I figured that one was Jan. "Poor Jan." I managed to find homes for the babies. Thank the Lord.

So some time passed...well, a few weeks, between Easter and my birthday in late April. I had plans to go out with friends and my siblings so my brother and his wife came over to pick me up. My sister-in-law picked Pearl up to play with her, and she started feeling around and said "Hey, Nain? I think she's pregnant." No. No, no, no. Did you all know that guinea pigs don't waste any time getting it on after they have a baby? In fact, if you don't catch them as soon as those babies are out, they'll get preggers again. And that's what happened. That little slut got knocked up again. "Pearl! You whore!" I whispered to her. Sure enough, she had gotten chunky again. I thought it was just that weight you gain after a baby. But she got big this time. I mean REALLY big. Like softball size big. So I feared there were more than just three babies in there this time. And I was correct.

A short while later, I came home one day and my fears were confirmed. There were five now. Five. I mean, don't get me wrong...these babies were cute. But five? Holy cow. I quickly named them - Jermaine, Tito, Jackie, Marlon and Michael. And again, I headed back to the vet's office to determine sex. At this point I was so over the guinea pigs. I momentarily debated just letting them go into the wild. But I did have a heart. So I managed to somehow find homes for them yet again. However, I did have some stragglers. Ruby/Rudy was still in his cell, and Pearl and another baby were in the other cage. (A girl baby, mind you...I wasn't making that mistake again.) Did you know how much poop six guinea pigs can create? Seriously, I was cleaning poop every other day. Like I said...I was over the guinea pigs. 

I did end up finding homes for Pearl and the other baby. My brother's friend had two children, and one is autistic and was so excited to have the two pets. So I knew they'd be going to a good home. I did keep Ruby/Rudy until the end. But I swore...never again. If Aubrey ever says "Mommy, can we get a guinea pig?" That will be responded quickly with a resounding NO. No freaking way. They are little sluts, those guinea pigs.  

So while this may not be a joke or comedy...well, it may be a comedy. It's one of those situations where you can only look back on and laugh. And learn. Never again.

 

Telling my story

So for those of you who have been with me from the very beginning waaaaay back in May 2010, you'll remember that I began this blog as an effort to get back into writing, as a jump into writing a novel.  Shortly after I started writing this blog, I began working on a novel.  The book was based on true stories, a series of events I went through, mistakes made, etc., before I met T.  I got fairly far along, and I even joined a critique group with some amazing writers to keep myself accountable.  But...then I switched jobs.  And I lost the time to focus on it.  And then I got pregnant, and finding time for anything during a high risk pregnancy became difficult.  So somewhere along the way, I haven't even looked at the file in well over a year. 


I see that many of you out there do the same thing - you start writing but then lose your drive somewhere along the way.  I know many of you then pick up where you stopped and finished the book.  I have the utmost admiration for you who do that.  Pushing yourself through writer's block, making time for a project you are dying to finish, I truly admire that.  I know, I have a one year old so it's completely understandable that I don't have the time, but then I know other writers, such as Julie Lindsey and Steph Campbell (both from my critique group, btw) who have more than one kid and pump these puppies out, amazing books, amazing writers, and I wonder how they do it on top of everything else.  It blows my mind. 


That same year when I started writing my blog, I also went through a retreat at my church.  I was a participant at first, and then after my retreat, I chose to continue on to plan and give the next retreat for the next group of women who were seeking more, wanting some spiritual guidance.  Part of that retreat process was to give my own "witness."  This witness was basically me telling my story - the good, bad and ugly.  It was hard to write, and a lot of it was based on events I wrote in my book, things it took all I had in me to vocalize, let alone put on paper.  I did it (crying through most of it, of course), but I gave my story.  It was hard but yet liberating at the same time.  Many of these things I vocalized I have never told anyone, aside from T, and I intend to keep it that way.   These confessions were things I was worried when I first met T would cause him to say "yeah, this is too much."  But it didn't.  Shortly before we were married, I went to confession at church, more as a way of forgiving myself than seeking forgiveness.  And I burned that witness in our fire pit.  I let it go.  None of it mattered because it was all past, and I was beginning my future.


Time has passed.  Like I said, I haven't looked at the book file in forever.  So much has changed.  I'm married, in a completely different place, a mother, my focus on what is important has changed.  All of that drama, all of that crap I don't even find important at all.  Those things that at one point were so important, were so traumatic for me, those stupid decisions I made...none of that even is a blip on the radar.  Sure, it crosses my mind, and sure I have moments where I still can't forget.  It is a part of who I was.  But I'm not who I was. 


I wanted to write that book as a way to let it go, to tell my story and vocalize what I couldn't for so long.  But the thing is, I have.  I could open that file and finish my story, but it was hard enough that first time around to write down events that happened.  I kind of relived certain things I didn't want to relive.  And honestly, I don't want to do that again, and I don't see the point of it.  I don't have the desire to finish what I started.  I just don't have the drive to do that.  It doesn't seem important anymore. 


Do I want to write still?  Hell yes, I do.  My dream job, my ideal world, is for us to have enough money for me to practice law part time, doing wills and basic transactional legal stuff, and to write.  I would love to have the time and freedom to do that.  Honestly, as I get older, with my heart condition, I see backing off what I do as a necessity.  Essentially I've been told by doctors I can't keep up my lifestyle, the stress that comes along with being a litigation attorney and director.  Not for my health and the good of my family.  And my passion, what I want, deep down more than anything, is to write.  For right now, I can't.  I have to work full-time, I have loans to pay off and expenses towards which to contribute. 


I would love to find the time to get back into writing.  For that reason, I have been inspired by Gretchen at Second Blooming to challenge myself in the month of June to write a post a day.  It'll be hard, but I want to do it.  So...I need ideas.  If you have any, please leave them in comments.  I'm keeping a notebook with me to write them down as I go along. 


Do I have a story to tell?  Yes.  Is it the one I thought was important back in 2010?  No, not in the slightest.  I've let that go.  And I have to say it's a great feeling.


Plug:  And in an effort to increase readership and this blog's potential, I've joined a variety of networking sites including BlogHer and "I'm on the fence."  Click on the icon to your right each time you stop by, and you submit a vote for my blog.  The more votes I get, the more visibility (yay!).  Also, if you don't already, follow me on twitter @viewfromnain!

     

This must end now

I've been holding off on something for awhile now...say, about 6 months.  The pacifier.  The doctor said it needed to be done, and I was like "yeah...we can push it off just a little longer."  And then it turned into a little longer....and a little longer.  And then it turned into "Oh she only needs it for sleeping."  "Oh, this once will only calm her down when we're at church."  And last week when we were in St. Louis, we used it quite a bit to keep her quiet so as to not annoy our hotel neighbors or to keep her quiet in restaurants so as to not be "those people."  Excuses after excuses.

 

 

T's been on the whole "let's get rid of this thing" since the doctor said she no longer needed it to comfort herself.  That was at her 6 month appointment.  In fact he was all for going it cold turkey.  She had to stop using it at daycare in order to transition to toddler, and she's done fine with that.  But at home?  Not so much.  And I'm afraid I've been her paci dealer.  I've kind of let it go along too long.  Bad, Mommy, bad. 

 

 

But after one of those incidents on Sunday where she reenacted a scene from the exorcism as we got her ready for bed, and when she realized we weren't caving and giving her a pacifier?  She flipped out.  Like literally flipped out.  I am not sure I've ever seen her get that angry.  Home girl actually bit the nipple off of her bottle and used that as a pacifier.  Milk everywhere.  Everywhere, I tell you, everywhere!  So we just took the bottle out of her hands, put her in bed and walked out.  As soon as she calmed down, then she had her bottle, but as soon as she finished and figured out there was no paci forthcoming, all hell broke loose.

 

 

Sure, we could do the weaning thing, but I think we've tried that.  It's not working.  I mean the kid, the other day, saw one on the kitchen table, somehow reached it, took it off the table, looked me dead in the eye, smiled and stuck it in her mouth.  She knows what she's doing. 

 

 

So this week and the next might suck.  In fact I'm pretty sure there are moments.  But it has to be done.  This is a paci free household.  It has to be.  This has to end now. 

 

 

We're two nights in.  Two long nights in.  We've got a stubborn one on our hands, but what she doesn't realize?  I'm stubborn, too.  And only one of us can win. 

 

 

Who knew such a power struggle could come from a piece of plastic? 

     

What a difference a year makes

I need to upload vacation pictures, I know.  So I'm going to hold off on that post for awhile.  It was a fun trip, and we got to explore the city and see a lot, eat a lot, and walk...a lot.  St. Louis is a pretty cool city.  I mean, it's not my favorite city in the world, but when your level of comparison starts with Dublin, Ireland, not much can beat that.  Or ever will.  Did I mention I'd love to go back to Dublin sometime?  Oh I hadn't?  Yeah.  That sounds good.

 

 

It's funny because we went to St. Louis about a year ago when Aubrey was 5 months old.  It was July, so St. Louis felt like it was the second circle of hell with temperatures well into the 100s.  So we didn't really get to do much walking, and everything we did was inside.  That and Aubrey pretty much either slept, ate or stared around in her car seat/stroller.  It's not like we went anywhere where Aubrey would be interested.  There really wasn't much that did interest her.  So this time, almost a year to the date, things were different.  The main difference - she's mobile.  Oh man, she's mobile.  She's still not a steady mobile, mind you.  She has that toddler, walking around like a drunk co-ed look, stumbling and falling down on her butt every few steps.  But she gets around.  And she gets into every single thing.  And finds everything.  I mean, I guess it's a good thing because she's perceptive as hell, but it keeps you on your toes. 

 

 

It was a little more fun taking her around, watching her observe things around her.   This time, she was sitting straight up in her stroller, looking around at everything.  It was hilarious the things she found interesting.  At the zoo, she'd rather watch the people around her than see the animals. (I don't know...maybe she is like her Mommy, silently judging people around her.  She loved the arch.  We passed a construction zone, and T said she absolutely loved that.  Sitting at a restaurant, she's looking around everywhere, turning around in her high chair to where she's almost completely twisted. 

 

 

This time around she's more vocal.  Babbling, laughing, and...screaming.  Oh dear God, the screaming.  Just random screaming.  I think I can pinpoint which child in her classroom taught her this new, fun trick.  And she doesn't just scream out of anger.  It's just random, for no reason at all.  Not a fan. 

 

 

It's amazing what a difference a year can make.  Here's last July:

 

 

And here's now....it amazes me how much she has changed.