Plans

I heard the other day that 24 teachers are going to be laid off in our county at the end of this school year. If that is true, the chances of me finding a job just went to zero. I know (well, I believe) that everything happens for a reason, and that what is meant to be, will be. But lately I am having a hard time trying to understand why my life has turned out the way that it did. I have also become even more discouraged and upset than I already was with our government. I can understand that there need to be budget cuts, but do they really have to take away from schools? From the children? Sigh.......


My plans were great, noble plans, or so I thought. I was going to do something that surely God would have wanted me to do - it was much greater than simply being a wife and mother. My plans for my life were a lot different than God's plans. When I started college, my plan was to get my nursing degree, then transfer to another school in Atlanta where I would get my Midwifery certificate. I was going to deliver catch babies. And that's not all I was going to do, oh no. I was going to take those Midwifery skills and go to Africa and catch babies and educate mothers about breastfeeding and make a difference in the world. I was going to be Mother Teresa Junior, and I was going to do big things.

Unfortunately, I failed Anatomy. Twice. And there was no way I was even going to risk taking Chemistry and cause my GPA to fall even lower. And you all remember what happens when I see needles, right? So yeah, nursing is NOT something that I can, or should do.

After the unfortunate anatomy flops, I lost my scholarship and I quit going to all of my classes halfway through my third semester. I was doing all kinds of crazy things and I broke up with my boyfriend and it all got so bad that I had to seek psychiatric help. I was seven kinds of screwed up and my life was spinning out of control. Then my counselor suggested that I take an aptitude test, which told me exactly what I had known since I was a little girl playing school with my brother; I was cut out for teaching, and really not anything else.

I could be a teacher. There are no needles involved in teaching, and very rarely is there any blood. Fast forward to May 2008 and there I am, walking across the stage as a teacher. Teaching isn't exactly as fun or exciting as babies, but obviously it was what I was supposed to do, otherwise God wouldn't have let me get as far with it as I did. He would have steered me in another direction, or put up a roadblock so that I would go another route. But He didn't and now I have a two-year old teaching degree that is covered in dust from going unused for all this time (as well as thousands of dollars in student loan debt). And I don't know what to make of it all.
If I was supposed to go to Africa (or any other poor, desolate country that needed me), surely God would have sent me there before I got married and had a baby. I can't just up and leave and go to Africa now. So what am I supposed to do with my life? I feel like there is something more that I am supposed to be doing with my life, I'm just not sure what that is yet.

At times I think that God is trying to tell me that I will teach, just not in the way that I envisioned. I think He's trying to tell me that he wants me to homeschool my children, and I LOVE that idea. I cannot stand to be away from Emily (I am away from her right now and it is killing me) and I dread the thought of sending her away for the majority of her time awake when she is only four years old. I don't understand how people do it, but maybe in three years I will be ready for that time away from her. Somehow I doubt that.

It's funny isn't it, how life works out? How our plans are so much different than God's plans and even though we think we know what is best, His plans are better. It's so funny, I forgot to laugh.....

Confessions

I don't even know why I am telling you all this, since it is kind of a personal, secretive kind of thing, but the truth is, we are already thinking about baby #2. That doesn't in any way at all mean that we are trying for baby #2 because we most definitely are NOT, but I'm a planner, and I am planning ahead. Way ahead.

I'm also a daydreamer. When I lie awake at night, or in the mornings after Emily has drifted back off to sleep, I like to think about the future. I know that I can't control and plan every little detail of my life, but in my dreams I can do whatever I want. And what I want is more babies. Someday. 

I've always dreamed of having four children. I definitely don't want three, because then we would have a middle child and middle child syndrome is a seriously nasty problem that I do not want to deal with any more than I already have to. My brother is a middle child and whoa! It is out. of. control. Denny agrees with me on the middle child thing, since he is a middle child too and he's got a bad case of it, but his solution to the problem is to only have two children. And that? Just does not work for me. 


I am so excited about having another baby, but I'm nervous about it too. If the next baby is another girl, then it should be no problem convincing Denny to go ahead and have another (and another). We both want a boy so badly and I am willing to keep trying until we have a son. But if the next one is a boy, it is going to be nearly impossible to get Denny to agree to a third child. 

Plus, there are always so many opinions from other people that we are given (without asking for them) and the majority opinion seems to be that once a couple has a girl and a boy, then they are done. The family is complete, end of story, your baby making years are over. And sometimes that is the opinion even if both children are the same sex. Two seems to be the limit for most people and they can't seem to understand why on earth  anybody would want more than two children, even if they have more than two themselves. In my mind, having one boy and one girl does not mean that my family is complete. It just means that we are getting warmed up! I read on another blog somewhere about a family who has four daughters, they have adopted one son, and they are planning to adopt at least one more. The mom says that everywhere she goes people comment on how she has her hands full. And the part that I absolutely love about all of this is that she comments right back that her hands are not as full as her heart. Isn't that beautiful?


Maybe people should just mind their own business. Maybe I should just quit blogging about anything other than Emily and what she does because I get way off track and I get heated up about silly things like other people's opinions and I just wish that I could pack up all of our things and move to Texas. Yes, Texas. That is where we'd go if we ever move away. 


And now I've got to go and change Emily's diaper because she decided that right now is the best time to come and stand right beside me and sling out a poop and Oh my God we are such back woods hillbillies we need to get with the times and get ourselves some disposable diapers because cloth diapers are so disgusting and hard to use blah blah blah.

New Year, New Me

Yeah, I know I'm 3 days late with this, but better late than never, right? I've decided to put my resolutions out there for all to see, so that hopefully I will follow through with them. All of them. Hold me accountable, ok?

This is the first time I have ever made any resolutions, and I think they are very much do-able. Here they are:

1. Exercise at least 4 times every week. Since we have a Wii Fit now, (which is awesome and I am already addicted to it) I have no excuse not to work out!
2. Eat 1 serving of fruit every day.
3. Pray every day.
4. Read my Bible every day.
5. Make nighttime prayers a part of Emily's bedtime routine and begin saying the blessing before every meal.
6. Make it to church every Sunday.
7. Be a better wife to Denny.
8. Spend more quality time with Emily. I am here with her every day, but I am not always with her.
9. Learn how to use the Manual setting on my camera.
10. Take pictures every day.
11. Be a better blogger. I enjoy blogging and I need to make time to do it more often.
    

So, what do you think? I'd say those are all very easy things to do and I should have no problem doing them all year long. I'll let you know how things are going in a few weeks!

What Have I Done?

So I'm trying to make a few extra bucks without actually working, and I've decided to send in some old jewelry to Cash 4 Gold (please don't be a scam, please, please don't be a scam). I've got an old bracelet from a high school boyfriend that I haven't worn in years, and there are a few other pieces that I'm gonna send in, including an earring mounting with no stone in it (the stone was taken out to make the necklace that Denny had custom made for me for my college graduation). So I've been looking all over the house today for that stupid earring, and guess what? I can't find it.

I looked in every place that jewelry lives at in our house. I even looked in all of the empty jewelry boxes that we kept for some reason even though none of my jewelry is still in them. I did however find a bunch of $2 bills that Denny put in one of the boxes years ago and had forgotten about. I swear, one day I am going to find money hidden in the toilet or a shoebox or somewhere else like that.

Anyway, I called Denny to ask him if he remembered with the earring, and do you know what I did with it? I threw it away. Like, in the trash.

Last winter when I was nesting like a mad woman, I decided that I had no use for such a thing and I THREW IT AWAY. I threw gold away. I know it was probably worth next to nothing anyway, but seriously, who throws gold away?

Apparently, I do.

I'm In Shape. Round Is A Shape.

Ok, so I'm not that bad off that I can describe myself as being round, but I am definitely NOT in shape. Breastfeeding has gotten rid of all of the baby weight and I actually weigh less than I did when I got pregnant. But did you know that breastfeeding mothers store enough fat in their thighs to make enough milk to last for 3 days if there was a famine and they didn't have access to food? That might have been helpful to me if I had been alive 200 years ago, or if I lived in a desert in Africa, but I really don't see how I will ever need those fat stores. So although my tummy is nice and flat, my thighs? Not so nice. I need to do something about that.


After reading Lauren's post about running a 5K this December, I decided that if she can run over a bridge that is like, up high and stuff, that I could run here at home, where there are no bridges and I can stay on solid ground. I decided to try the schedule that she linked to here and I planned to get started this morning.


What further solidified my decision to quit wearing an indention of my butt into the cushions of our couch was when Denny and I were watching The Biggest Loser last night and I absolutely could not believe that Bob was trying to get one of the contestants to run on the treadmill for 5 straight minutes. I could not run for 5 straight minutes, and I weigh like, 1/3 of what that person weighed. But then they did it, and they made me feel like The Biggest Actual Loser instead of The Biggest Weight Loser, so I just had to exercise today. 


And so I ventured out with Emily in the stroller, even though Bob and Jillian demand that you let go of the treadmill! Don't hold on!, but we all know that the stroller wasn't gonna push itself, so off we went, Emily, the stroller and I. First I was supposed to walk briskly for 5 minutes. Check! Then I was supposed to alternate 60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking for 20 minutes. Oh boy. The first two rounds were ok. But then I started noticing that my heart felt like it was gonna beat itself right out of my chest. By the end of the next round, my mouth was parched and I was pissed at myself for not bringing a water bottle. Then a few minutes later my thighs were on fire and I honestly didn't know if I could make it back home.


I thought about just sitting right there in the middle of the dirt road until Denny passed by on his way home from work (in 6 hours) and took me with him, but then Emily started whining and I remembered that I actually had to go home. I didn't do as good as I wanted to although I did jog for 5 of the 8 minutes that I was supposed to. By the time we got home I was completely spent. My arms and legs felt like limp noodles and I was honestly scared that my arms were going to give out and I was going to drop Emily on the way inside. I guess I will be stretching out Week 1's routine for another week - that is if I survive the rest of Week 1. 


There is one upside to all of this: (ok, besides being in shape and not being ashamed to wear a bikini in public, although that whole bikini thing is useless to me now that summer is over) I have tons of energy right now. It took about 15 minutes for me to recover and be able to stand up again, but ever since then I have been on fire! I just can't stop doing stuff. I think exercising and I might get along this time. If it doesn't kill me first.