Bathroom Phobia

Phobias.  We all have them, whether you want to admit it or not.  I don’t like to use public restrooms.  Let’s make it clear, I am not a germaphobe.  This has nothing to do with the cooties I might encounter while using a public area of exposed private parts.  My phobia is people hearing me use the restroom.  I have to be on the verge of explosion before I will venture towards a public restroom.

Over the years, I have learned ways to cope with this odd phobia.  I count.  Yes, you read this right.  I count.  It doesn’t matter what I count, I just start counting things.  If you start paying attention, you will see almost every bathroom has tiles of some kind.  That is where I start.  I start counting the width, and then the length.  Within minutes, I can tell you exactly how many tiles cover the floor, and sometimes can even tell you how many go from the ground to the ceiling.  If there aren’t tiles on the floor, sometimes they are on the ceiling.  Sometimes restrooms have a bunch of rolls of toilet papers in each stall.  I count those...easy right?  Not really, after counting those rolls, I close my eyes and try to remember how many stalls are in the bathroom.  If there are 9 stalls, and each stall has 6 rolls, then we are talking 54 rolls of toilet paper.  You know what else you can count?  Screws.  There are tons of screws that hold those walls around you in place.  Very rarely is there nothing to count.  But in those rare cases, I have a back up plan.  I start finding letters of the alphabet.  I know what your thinking...where the hell do you find letters in a bathroom?!?  They are EVERY where!  Seriously, start looking around.  Every toilet paper dispenser is made by a company, and that company has their logo on that dispenser.  The little mini trash cans (for personal products) also have a manufacture on it.  Often, there are instructions in a bathroom.  There are instructions on how to move to the next roll of toilet paper, there are instructions about not flushing personal products, there are even instructions on flushing the commode!  So, I start with the letter A, and work my way through the alphabet.  I often get stuck on the letter F.  If I can’t find a letter I hold up a finger and keep going.  So by the end of my potty break, I can tell you exactly how many letters from the alphabet that particular stall is missing. 

After reading this, you want to go use a public restroom and try out my games right?  Next time you are counting tiles, you just think of me.  Actually, never mind.  I don’t want you thinking of me when you are taking a dump.  

Future

Do you wish you could see into the future?  The Chief and I watched a movie the other night.  It was very interesting.  It was about how our life is already written for us.  There is already a plan.  Because I am a Christian, I believe this to be true.  I believe God knows all, and knows how my life is going to play out.  I don’t think he has a book that has my path on it, but I think he knows.  In the movie, something happened that caused a ripple in the path.  The man met a woman that he wasn’t supposed to meet.  He was supposed to spill coffee on his shirt, which was going to delay him in his morning and force him to take a later bus.  The man that was supposed to cause him to spill the coffee, fell asleep.  SO, the coffee never spilled and he got on the bus and met this woman.  He falls in love with her, of course.  Later, the people that follow his path (these people make sure he is doing what is according to plan), tell him that he wasn’t supposed to meet this woman.  They tell him he wasn’t supposed to be with her.  They then tell him, if he choses to go off the path (his path will then have to be rewritten/rerouted) that his career and her career will never be the success that was planned for both of them.  She is a dancer, and he is running for office.  They tell him that if he chooses to be with her, she will be a dance teacher for six-year-olds instead of becoming the famous dancer that she has worked her whole life for.  So he is given a choice.  He can walk away, and let her be successful (because he loves her enough to walk away) or he can selfishly chose to be with her.  The second option means neither of them will be able to become what they have worked their whole lives for.  What would you do?  What would you do if you could see your future?  The Chief said he wouldn’t want to know.  I think I would.  If I could have known the direction my first marriage was heading, would I have married him, or even gone out on a second date?  I am not sure.  I wouldn’t have Little Man if I had made the decision to walk away.  But what about other things?  Is it bad to know the future?  Is it bad to want to know the future?  Think of all the divorces that would go away!  Think of all the sicknesses that would disappear?  If you knew you would get liver cancer and die at the age of 40, would you have taken that first drink?  If you knew you were going to end up that abortion, would you have had that one night stand?  What about the car accident?  Would you have gotten behind that wheel if you had known it was going to end with someone hurt?  Let’s go even smaller.  If you knew you were going to fail that test, wouldn’t you have studied for it?  
In many ways this comes down to making good decisions the first time around.  We don’t get a second chance at rewriting the future.  We don’t get to know what happens as a result of our decision until we make that decision. Life would sure be easier if you could see ahead, but we can’t.  I guess we just have to take the one shot we have, and try to get it right the first time!

Christmas Holiday

        It’s the Christmas season...are you in the mood yet?  I would like to start off by saying Christmas is one of my least favorite holidays.  The meaning behind it has completely been lost somewhere behind presents and parties.  Kids couldn’t care less that they are celebrating the birth of Jesus.  What they do care about is what is under that tree that they are entitled to.  If you ask any child (including mine) what their favorite thing about Christmas is, do you think they are going to say: “Going to church for the candlelight service with all the Christian music”?  Or maybe, “Sitting around the house with family I haven’t seen in a year”.  Or even, “Taking gifts to the children’s shelter.”  No, we are raising our children to be excited about the gifts.  Let’s understand something...I am guilty of this.  The Chief and I start threatening taking Christmas presents away as early as July! As of right now, the only thing the Little Man is getting under the tree this year is his framed office referrals from the principal (office referrals: bad reports).  Merry Christmas Little Man...sucks to be you.  We are evil, I know.  Back onto why I don’t like this holiday. Note to self: get ADD medication for myself.

So not only have we completely lost the meaning of this special day, but we have crammed it with spending money.  So who benefits?  Every retail store imaginable.  This can be good, because it supplies jobs.  That would make Baby Jesus happy.  Presents.  I hate this part.  I love to give, but I hate the stress of giving when people feel like they have to return and give me something.  It takes the fun out of giving.  To me it isn’t fun to give when you get something back...then we are just trading money.  I mean can you even call that gift-giving?  I think it should be called gift-trading.  “Hey want to come over for Christmas dinner and some gift-trading?”  There isn’t anything that is fun about that to me.  If you want to buy me a gift, buy me one for my birthday.  Don’t buy me a present and call it, “Celebrating the birth of Jesus aka: Christmas”.  

Note to Chief: Please close this blog and move onto the next one.  P.S.- I better have gifts under the tree...I was good this year.

This will be my first Christmas away from my family.  This is a sad thing for me.  The last five years, my parents have spent the night with the Chief, Little Man, and I on Christmas Eve.  We then wake up, do the gift-trade, and have breakfast together.  It has been a tradition.  I have always had them close to me on this special day.  There is something I love about this holiday.  I love being with my family.  My family that includes my parents, my son, my husband, and my sister and her family.  This year, it will just be the three of us getting up together.  The house will be quiet.  It is time to set new traditions.  How we are going to set this day apart from any regular day, I am not yet sure.  It will just be the three of us.  To me, that isn’t very special since it is usually just the three of us.  I am trying to be optimistic...those of you that know me know that not only is the glass half empty but I am stressing about running out of the water and not being able to replace it.  This isn’t why I don’t like this holiday, but it does add to my pile of dislikes.  

When I was a kid, do you know what I remember about Christmas?  I remember that on Christmas Eve we would go as a family to the church.  We will pile in there like sardines, and we would each get a candle.  We would spend 30 minutes with our church family, singing and worshiping God.  We spent those thirty minutes reading from the bible.  We would read about how Mary and Joseph went for miles and miles looking for a place to stay.  A pregnant virgin, riding on the back of a donkey.  After they found a barn, not a room at the inn, but a barn...she climbed off the back of that donkey and gave birth to a miracle.  We sang songs...our shoulders were touching we were all so close.  It was so warm, and you could feel the love radiating off of our bodies.  Then we would go home.  We would get to open one present (usually new pajamas).  Then we went to bed.  In the morning, mom would come in and read us the same story she did every year on this day.  We would go to the tree, open our few presents that we were ALWAYS very grateful for, and we would have breakfast together...mom’s homemade cinnamon rolls.  Then we would go to the house of close-friends and we would have Christmas dinner.  It was special.  We didn’t get gifts from anyone else, because we didn’t have any family around.  And you know what?  It worked.  I am so thankful my parents raised me the way they did.  I am so thankful we weren’t raised to expect this and that, and everything on a four-page Christmas list.  We knew why we were celebrating, and it wasn’t about the gifts.  I have tried to repeat this cycle, and can say I have probably failed.  I can emphasize the true importance, but it doesn’t help when society makes it about gift-giving.  It is so hard to teach a child one thing, when they get something else outside your front door.   

So, like the rest of you, I will be doing the gift-trade with the Chief, and unlike the rest of you, we will be presenting our child with his framed office referrals.  Or maybe coal.  Or maybe frozen dog turds.  Or even better, a picture of Jesus...so he can be reminded of what this holiday is REALLY about.  

Can I hear an Amen?  

Warranty Drawer

Okay, so everyone has inside family jokes right?  I am going to share one with you.  Actually, this post is directed towards the Chief.  The joke is old, Jack Wagon.  I love you, but if you say it again I might have to poke you in the pancreas AND kick you in the kidneys.  

  In our home in Texas, I had a drawer in the kitchen.  In this drawer I put the warranty/manual information for every electronic in the house.  I called it the “warranty drawer”.  So when something was broke, I would go to that drawer and pull out the information on it.  I used it more for the manuals than anything.  It didn’t start off organized, but in my defense the fact that all the manuals made it into the drawer is a success story in itself.  So when I was trying to clean off the counter, sometimes I would toss in a couple of other of my things.  This was my drawer, I created it.  I had the right to put anything in it I wanted to, right?  I mean women have their underwear drawer, do you only keep underwear in it?  I can tell you right now, my mother keeps her chocolate in hers.  It is our area, we are allowed to put what we want in it.  The warranty drawer was as sacred as my underwear drawer.  It was MINE.  If I want to toss in a phone charger, an iPod, or a few of my receipts, why the hell can’t I?  It is MY space.  MINE.  Well, years of throwing in a couple of random things, the drawer built up to a little more than a warranty drawer.  But, it’s all good, because it was still my drawer, and it is where I put things I didn’t want to lose.  So if was frantically searching the house for something, the Chief would say, “Did you check the warranty drawer?”  It was cute.  At first.  Five years later?  Not. So. Much.  So if the little man couldn’t find his shoes, the Chief would say, “Have Mom check the warranty drawer.”  Okay, Jack Wagon, it is a TINY LITTLE DRAWER.  It doesn’t fit a pair of tennis shoes.  Again, the first few times?  Funny.  After the 86th time, it is about as funny as Grandma falling down on the ice.  One evening, I went in the garage and the truck wasn’t there (Chief had it parked out front).  I went back into the house and said, “Where is the truck?”  Without hesitation he responds, “Check the warranty drawer.”  That day, I cleaned that warranty drawer.  I cleaned the hell out of that drawer.  That drawer shined so much it was blinding.  I got a binder and organized those manuals and warranties by categories.  You think the Container store is organized?  I made that stupid Container Store look like a hoarder’s closet.  Not only that, but I cleaned all the other random stuff out.  So the only thing that was in there was the warranties.  It was Beast (Little Man’s word for AWESOME).  I was so proud and showed the Chief.  He could no longer say, “Check the warranty drawer”. Or. So. I. Thought.  Half and hour later, something went missing, and he sent me straight to my stupid drawer that was now my biggest enemy.  It was then that I realized that I was never going to escape the torture from this ten by fourteen inch space.  If that wasn’t bad enough, he got the family involved.  Mom would be over looking for a serving spoon and the Chief would say, “Check the warranty drawer.”  After yelling, “I DON’T PUT SPOONS IN THE DAMN WARRANTY DRAWER!” he took the time to explain the situation.  So it became a stupid joke.  Stupid.  Not Funny.  

So when we moved to Connecticut, guess what I did?  I put that damn warranty binder in the basement.  No more jokes.  Look who’s laughing now, My Love!  No more, “Check the warranty drawer”.  THERE IS NO FREAKING WARRANTY DRAWER, BUDDY!  THERE IS NO DRAWER AT ALL!  HA!  

After about a month, I tried to sneak in another drawer.  It was my drawer, no warranties, just my stuff.  It is a conglomeration of all kinds of things.  I don’t need to share with you the contents of my special drawer.  I didn’t even think he knew about it.  After all, he doesn’t know where the washer and dryer are...how the hell is he going to find a tiny drawer?  He did.  And what does he call it?  The Warranty Drawer.  And what does he do when something is missing?  He tells me to Check. The. Warranty. Drawer.          

Be a Follower!!

Okay, so I am losing my drive on this thing.  I love to write, and right now, I have more time then I could ever want....BUT I am having a hard time getting motivated.  Are you a follower?  If you are, can I ask a huge favor?  PLEASE become a follower (if you aren’t already).  I am curious to see how many people actually read this.  If you don’t want to use your real name, then make one up.  It isn’t hard.  You just have to create an account...I think.  Under followers, choose: Join this site.  You have a few other steps, but it isn’t too painful.  Please, do it for me.  

On a lighter...or maybe heavier note.... it is going to be harder than I thought to be a teacher in this state.  I graduate and walk the stage this weekend.  I am SUPER excited.  I can’t WAIT to have my own classroom.  If we still lived in Texas, I would have already had a job lined up.  I would immediately be able to teach.  All my years of studying and working so hard, would pay off.  Living in Connecticut isn’t going to make this dream easy.  First, they won’t allow me to teach until I am certified to teach in Connecticut.  When I called and talked to the Department of Education months ago, they made it sound easier.  Now that I am so close, I made the phone call yesterday.  Come to find out, I have to “apply for certification”.  In order to do this, I have to have my actual degree in hand (which doesn’t get mailed out until January 6th), and I have to have all my Texas certificates in hand (which they won’t release until I have my degree).  THEN after I send all of THAT in, I have to wait another 6-8 weeks for them to tell me what test I have to take to certify me in this state.  Blah!  With all that waiting, in the meantime I am allowed to substitute teach, but again, in Connecticut, they won’t let me do that without my degree in hand (January 6th).  SO, I have another freaking month of waiting.  

I told the Chief yesterday that I am getting stir crazy being in the house, with absolutely no life, and no friends.  Pretty sure he doesn’t get it.  He gets to go to work and be with people all day.  Me?  I am quickly sliding into the habit of sleeping all morning, only to roll out of bed and drive around.  I can’t sit in the house.  I can’t.  So what do I do with my spare time?  I get in the car and drive.  I drive wherever.  I typically have an end goal...even if it is Taco Hell for a silly little Pepsi.  I don’t think I am actually depressed, or maybe I am.  I think to myself, what the hell do I have to be depressed about?  I have a wonderful home, a wonderful husband who loves me and takes care of me, a charming Little Man (I had to choke out the word “charming”), and an all around great life.  I have so much to be thankful for.  Why do I feel like I am falling into this pit?  I think I know why.  I don’t have any friends here.  I don’t have anyone to call up and ask to go to lunch.  I don’t have anyone to go to the mall with.  So here I am in a state that is so far from everyone I know.  Everyday I call the Brunette BFF.  I look forward to talking to her each day.  I feel like it is the only inch of sanity I get.  It makes me feel like I have a connection to the outside world.  At this point, if it weren’t for her, I am not sure I would even bother climbing out of bed until the Chief and Little Man get home.  So pathetic, I know...but at this point, it is what I feel.  I am not one of those people who can just sit at home.  I can’t be a stay-at-home wife.  It isn’t me.  Tomorrow I am going to search for volunteer positions.  At this point, I would be happy to help out in a nursing home, or a kid’s group home.  Anything, but I have to do something that gets me up and moving.  Tomorrow, I start fresh.  Tomorrow I will get a plan.  Then on Saturday, I will walk the stage and be the first person in my family to graduate with a Bachelor’s Degree.  THAT is something to be excited about!