Where is her heart?

Flying.  Never uneventful.  Doesn’t matter how much I pray before hand, it never fails to be a ball-buster.  Here I am, on my way to Texas.  We always fly Southwest.  The downfall to that, is we always have 252 stops on the way to Texas.  Our first stop is Baltimore.  We have to get off because we have a two hour layover.  I get the Little Man something to eat, we walk around a little, and then go find our gate.  We sit in lovely little seats at our gate waiting for boarding.  On the other side of our seats was a woman with her two young children.  I didn’t realize it when I sat down, otherwise I would have immediately moved.  Once I was comfortable with a book, the tantrum set in.  The older of the two kids, was screaming something at the mother.  Little Man turned to me and said, “Hope we aren’t stuck by them on the plane.”  I silently agreed, thankful that with Southwest you pick your own seats.  Finally it was time to board.  Our seats were B3 and B4.  I knew that all the families with children board after all the A’s are called.  Excellent, I thought.  That is really safer because the obnoxious families with small children have picked their seats before I have to pick mine aka I don’t have to sit near them if I don’t want to.  This makes me sound like a child hater.  I’m not.  Okay, under the age of 10 I have a tough time.  Exception: my own niece and nephews, and friends’ kids.  

So Little Man and I head for our spots in line...as you know, I am a nazi flyer and will make sure that everyone near me in line is lined up appropriately according to their numbers.  There will be no B5 or B6 in front of me.  I earned my B3 and B4, so get the hell back.  As we line up I notice all the families standing off to the side waiting to pre-board.  More than I have ever seen on a flight before.  Oh well.  I am confident all the front seats are taken and they will all be forced to sit in the back of the plane...as it should be.  I know what your thinking...where is her heart??  My heart and patience was lost years ago when it comes to tiny terrorists.  There is a reason my teaching certification is for 4th-8th grade.  These are the ages I like.  Elementary school?  Not.  For.  Me.  

So there we stand, watching all the families get on.  I notice the woman sitting near us before wasn’t standing with all the other families with small children.  Little Man, definitely my child, also notices and points out that she was still sitting in the seats.  I was silently relieved thinking she was probably on another flight all together.  We get on the plane and we take the first two seats together.  I knew it was going to be a full flight, and I was willing to sacrifice my isle seat for the peace and quiet of being as far away from the small children as possible.  

After everyone boards, I notice two of the flight attendants talking about another passenger that needs to board.  They decide they are going to have to ask a random passenger to switch seats.  One heads to the back of the plane, just as a woman in the next isle and one row back over, offers up her seat.  As she moves, I look towards the cockpit to see who this passenger is that is causing the ruckus of seat movement.  There she stands.  Holding one child, with the other at her side.  Where does she sit?  One row back, and one row over.  Where does the temper tantrum sit?  Directly behind little man between two strangers.  Why they put a child that small that far away from his mother I will never understand.  So here he is, between a 57 year old man and a 46 year old woman.  How does she know their ages, you ask?  Because the little shit asked them 42 times.  I can also tell you that the 57 year old man had a birthday on July 20, and the 46 year old has a birthday coming up in October.  The kid?  He is five.  His birthday is November 13th.  He lives in Dallas.  He has a dog and a little sister.  His room is green, and his sister’s room is red.  He is in preschool and his teacher is Ms. Kim.  Shoot.  Me.  Now.  Why the hell didn’t I bring ear phones, or plugs, or a knife to cut off my ears?!?  I am furious that because she chose not to pre-board, that everyone else has to be inconvenienced.  What the hell is wrong with people?  Finally after 549 questions, the old man turns and says, “Okay, I am going to read now.”  The five year old turns to the woman who at this point must have closed her eyes because this is what I hear: “Are you sleeping?  Hello?  Hello?”

What did I do?  Close my eyes and pray for it all to go away. Then when we stopped again, Little Man and I moved to the second row back...far enough away that I didn’t have to hear the five year old ANY-MORE. 

Mess of a post

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to become a pregnancy blog.  I do have a funny story though that I am going to share that has to do with this pregnancy.  

A few weeks ago, I had an appointment with a new OBGYN. Yeah.  Because I am so early in the pregnancy, I have really only dealt with the fertility doctor.  So I had only seen my OB once when I went in.  I really liked him, and I know it is hard to find a good OB.  Some women prefer women doctors, but for me, when it comes to dealing with the vagigi, I prefer a man.  The reason I prefer a man, is because I feel they are more gentle.  Women, because they have had these procedures done themselves, know what hurts and doesn’t.  Frankly I feel they tug, push, and pull a little more than necessary...aka they treat a vagigi like a basket of dirty laundry, digging around, sorting clothes, yanking things out, and tossing them in the machine.  Men on the other hand don’t know what this feels like so they are more gentle and slow with their movements.  

*ADD side note: I just remembered that when I had the transfer done, I have my legs up in the stir-ups.  I am laying there, waiting on them to pass the embryo to the doctor, and I am a nervous wreck.  Last time I had this procedure done (last surrogacy) it was a very uncomfortable procedure.  It doesn’t feel good to have a catheter shoved in a place that is meant to be closed off to the public.  

      

So there I am, nervous and shaking, and the doctor, a man says to me, “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt at all.”  I remember thinking in my head, “Sure because you just had a catheter shoved in your vagina last week, so you of all people would know.”

Back to the story.  So I’m in the waiting room waiting for my name to be called.  They call me and I head back to the scale where I start to take off everything that might make that number look ugly.  Then we head back to my room.  She tells me to completely undress and put on the gown.  

Why am I completely undressing?

Nurse: Because Dr. Smith will want to do a full examine.  He is going to do a breast examine, a pap, chlamydia and gonorrhea test.

Who is Dr. Smith?  That isn’t my doctor!  And why is he doing all of those?  I was just supposed to have a sonogram done.  

Nurse: Well, because you are new to this office, it is protocol.  It is what all the women go through.  

Well, for some reason that was enough to send me over the edge.  I bursted out in tears.  I don’t just mean the sniffles, I mean full on sobbing uncontrollably.  The nurse stood there stunned.  She slowly approached me and put a hand on my shoulder and asked if there was something she could do, and I was so beside myself I couldn’t even answer her.  She quickly handed me a tissue and excused herself from the room.  After running out of the room she warned the doctor that they have an “emotional wreck in room 2”.  A few minutes later, there was a very gentle knock and then a doctor peeking around the corner.  Is this what I do to people?  Am I that scary?  Why can’t I scare my kid like that?  He very carefully comes in and takes a seat across from me in the short bar stool with the wheels on them (ADD side note-have you ever played on this stool?  These are so fun, they glide across the floor so easily and they have that little lever that you can go up and down...REALLY fun...Chief can we get one of those?) Then he rolls it back against the counter as far away from me as possible.  

Doctor: Are you okay?

Yes, are YOU okay?  You look a little scared...

Doctor (nervously laughing): I’m just fine, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.  The nurse said you were a little upset about the procedures.  

Yes, I just wasn’t prepared.  When I come in expecting something, and get told I am doing something completely different...I just wasn’t prepared...I’m really sorry.

Doctor: No problem at all.  I know you have been through IVF, so we can probably eliminate a lot of these test.  

How about we eliminate them all?  I have already been tested for every possible disease known to man, and why are you wanting to do a breast examine?

Doctor: We can eliminate those test, do you think we can get the records from the fertility doctor?

Absolutely, where do I sign?

Doctor: As far as the breast examine goes, that is up to you, we don’t have to do that, and since you won’t be nursing we can probably omit that too.

Excellent.  

For those of you that really know me, know I often get my way when it comes to weird things like this.  I just don’t let people decide for me.  I am never your typical go-with-the-flow patient.  I am, however, your typical kicking-and-screaming patient.  An example of this.  My last two surrogacys were twins.  The first one was an emergency c-section.  Most people think that if you have a c-section once, that you have to follow every other pregnancy with a c-section.  Why do people think this?  Because that is what the doctor tells them.  Many women, for some reason, chose not to challenge a doctor.  Me?  There is nothing that pleases me more than a good challenge.  Many doctors flat out refuse to do a v-bac (vaginal birth after c-section)...then you add twins to the mix, and that is unheard of.  There are doctors out there that won’t even allow you to deliver twins vaginally whether you have had a past c-section or not.  Why?  In my opinion, it comes down to laziness.  The excuse they give?  It’s very risky because your uterus can abrupt or something like that.  Well, guess what, that can happen with a vaginal too, but they don’t tell you that.  I feel doctors just want to get you in and get you out.  C-section is the easiest way to do that.  Am I on this earth to make a doctor’s life a little easier?  Hell no.  I’m going to make them work for that pretty salary.  It took probably twenty phone calls to find a doctor, with the last surrogacy, that would agree to try a v-bac.  Did I get my way?  Yes.  Did everything come out okay?  It couldn’t have been better.  I had the most patient, amazing doctor anyone could ask for.  And I didn’t get the on call doctor delivering my twins, I got her.  She tore my lining so that I would deliver while she was on call because she knew what my wishes were.  I am so sad that I am not in Texas to use her for this surrogacy.  It is always important to question authority.  Explore other options.  There is never only one way to do things.  There might be an EASY way, but that isn’t always the best way for YOU.  Maybe it is.  Maybe you want to be the go-with-the-flow person...how is that fun?           

If it weren’t for my persistence, we wouldn’t have gotten six months of free HBO and Cinemax AND $240 refunded to our account from Comcast.  Thanks to me, the Blond BFF and I got three free laser lypo-suction sessions.  It is just how I am.  I will get my way sooner or later.  I will stand my ground.  When I was 20 years old, my dad took my car to Firestone to get some maintenance done (I had a light on).  They convinced him that it needed over $800 worth of work.  He just told them to do it.  Then he brought me the bill.  I marched my ass up to Firestone and tore them up one end and down the other about all the unnecessary crap they convinced him that it needed.  I walked away with a $600 refund.  Do I know anything about cars?  I know as much about cars as the Chief knows about doing laundry.  Zip.  I didn’t need to know about the crap they did.  I paraded in there, that receipt in hand, and demanded a manager.  He came out, all greasy and grinning.

How can I help you, ma’am?

You can explain to me what the hell you did to my car for $800?

Let me pull it up.  

He stares at the screen for a couple minutes and jots some stuff down on a sheet of paper.

Here.  This is of the list of things we did.

You are telling me all of this is necessary in order to get my car to drive down the road?  Remember, it drove just fine when it was brought in.

Well, it was work that should be done, as far as needed...

That’s what I thought.  I am not paying for all of this shit.

Well ma’am, we already did the work.

Do I look like I care?  You took advantage of an old man!  He doesn’t even own the car!  I want to know what on this list, is what you had to do in order for that maintenance light to go off.   

He proceeded to tell me a few things on this list.  I grabbed the calculator in front of him, and demanded to know the cost for those three things.  I added them up, and turned the calculator towards him.  

So it looks like you own me about $600.  

Ummm...let me make a quick phone call.

Yeah buddy, you make your damn phone call.  You call the owner of Firestone.  You tell him you got one feisty little lady in here ready to take rip your nuts off.  He walks back over to me.

I have refunded $595 back to the card.

Thank you.

I flash him a smile that tells him he has made the safest move, as far as his nuts go.  I get my way.  Always.  

Good Lord, where was I going with this blog?  I don’t even remember where I started.  I probably got really off track again.  Oh well, I am done with my ranting.  

Always more where that came from....

Job Interview Result

Okay, so I wasn’t going to blog about this, but I guess I will.  I got the dreaded, thanks but no thanks, phone call Friday.  I asked if there was anything I could have done differently.  She said, “We had 60 applicants apply for this job, we chose to only interview six.  Out of those six, you were the only one without experience.  We truly enjoyed your interview.”

So there was nothing I could have done differently?  What about the Social Studies comment?

She laughed, “Absolutely not!  You were by far the most entertaining interview we had.  You were a breath of fresh air for us!  You answered every question right.  You were very confident.  There is absolutely nothing I would ask you to change.  It all came down to experience.  The other five candidates had five to ten years experience.” 

“Okay, well I appreciate you taking the time to interview me.”  

“Thank YOU and the best of luck to you.”

So that was that.  So just a question for all you smart people out there.  How the hell am I supposed to get experience if no one will take a chance and hire me?  The last interview I went on gave me the exact same reason.  It was down to me and another woman, and he picked her because she had experience.  I am not sure how I am going to get someone to take a chance on me.  I can probable start by leaving out the fact I was a delinquent that was paddled in the fourth grade.  Oh, and I can probably keep from bashing the coaches/Social Studies teachers.  Well, what’s done is done.  I check the teacher websites every other day, and no one has any openings.  I’m not giving up hope yet.  Although, the further along I get in this pregnancy the worse my chances are of someone hiring me.  I will probably start the new school year subbing again.  Maybe I will get lucky and get put into a long term subbing position that turns into something more permanent.  Who knows.  

But I’m not going to cry about it.

Okay, maybe a little.  

Make-Up Sex

So I am in the truck with mom when this song comes on.

Here are the words in case you can’t quite make it through the video.

I Hate You Then I Love You

Celine Dion

I’d like to run away from you

But if I were to leave you I would die

I’d like to break the chains you put around me

And yet I’ll never try

No matter what you do you drive me crazy

I’d rather be alone

But then I know my life would be so empty

As soon as you were gone

Impossible to live with you

But I could never live without you

For whatever you do

For whatever you do

I never, never, never

Want to be in love with anyone but you

You make me sad

You make me strong

You make me mad

You make me long for you

You make me live

You make me die

You make me laugh

You make me cry for you

I hate you

Then I love you

Then I love you

Then I hate you

Then I love you more

For whatever you do

I never, never, never

Want to be in love with anyone but you

You treat me wrong

You treat me right

You let me be

You make me fight with you

I could never live without you

You make me high

You bring me down

You set me free

You hold be bound to you

I hate you 

Then I love you

Then I love you

Then I hate you

Then I love you more

I love you more

For whatever you do

I never, never, never

Want to be in love with anyone but you

Is this song not every marriage?  I know it is my marriage.  Every marriage goes through bumps and bruises.  It is what makes us closer.  Which leads me to the title of this blog.  

So we are in the car and I am listening to the words of this song, and my ADD mind drifts off to another topic (not too far off).  Make-up sex.  

Why is it that people say things like, “Isn’t make-up sex the best?”  I haven’t actually met any of these people, but I have heard this on TV, radio, internet, and every Cosmo magazine ever printed.  Am I missing out on something?  Can someone admit to me, to my face, that after a fight they have hopped in the bed, or on top of the washing machine, and actually had good make-up sex?  I can just see how this conversation might go in our house.

Chief: Good fight, wanna go have sex?

Me: Sure, let me grab a knife, and I will meet you in the bedroom.  

Isn’t this a dangerous thing?  I mean even though a fight is over, is it really over?  I think men just think once it’s over, it is forgotten, well after a little make-up sex.  Then life is good.  In my opinion?  This is a risky move.  I am sure John Bobbitt thought that is all he was going to get.  Well, his wife Lorena had another idea.  Mr. Bobbitt was no longer able to bob it.  Can you imagine how that went down?

Mr. Bobbitt: I’m sorry, darling.

Mrs. Bobbitt: Me too.

Mr. Bobbitt: Should we finish this apology in the bedroom?

Mrs. Bobbitt: Sure, you head in there.  I will be there in a minute. Close your eyes and wait for me.  

Mr. Bobbitt: Make-up sex is the BEST!

As he skips off to the bedroom, she skips off to the shed for the axe.  

I just looked this up on Wikipedia, and did you know she cut it off then left the apartment with it?  So she hops in the car, drives for a bit, rolls down the window, and tosses it out.  For some reason this is hilarious to me!  Not her cutting it off, but her taking it for a ride.  Don’t worry Chief, remember you love me for my craziness!  Do you think she buckled it in or just rode with it in her lap?  I mean, it had to be a bloody mess right?  Maybe she just tossed it across the dash and let it ride there.    Just think, he thought he was getting a little make-up sex and instead she cut off more than she could chew.  EWWWW!!  Pun clearly intended.  

So back to the original question.  Who tell hell has awesome make-up sex?  Is this just in Hollywood or does this happen in the real world?  I’m going to need to try this out.  Hope the Chief is up to the challenge.  I will report back soon.         

Interview 2

My last post was pleading for prayers...

I feel it is only fair, since I made such a request, to let you know if it worked.  

What I failed to tell you, was that Tuesday was not only my test, but a job interview.  This is only the third position I have been able to apply for.  This is only second interview I have been called in for.  Remember the first interview?  The one where I shoved my foot in my mouth and then slowly swallowed?  Let me remind you, one of their questions was: What book are you currently reading?  Instead of lying through my teeth with: The Scarlet Letter, I went with: Fifty Shades of Porn...I mean Grey.  Then to make matters worse, I followed it with: Probably not something you should put on the 7th grade summer reading list.  Open.  Mouth.  Insert.  Dirty.  Tennis.  Shoe. 

Well, my interview was at 11:30, and the TEST was at 3:30.  So Tuesday was a STRESSFUL day.  I will start off with the interview.  

I walk in, a safe 15 minutes early, and sit down.  The secretary tells me they are running late.  I immediately hear country music in the background.  I am immediately relieved and feel that is a good sign.  I NEVER hear country music playing in this state...I DO however see life-size cut-outs of Obama in the school offices.  You can imagine my relief to not be slapped in the face with Obama, but instead be calmed with music from my hometown.  I sit and wait...and wait...and wait some more.  As I am sitting there, I look down at my stomach.  That morning I strapped myself down with everything but duct tape to hide my pregnant belly.  Then I covered it even more with a loose top.  Even though it is a surrogacy, and I won’t be taking a maternity leave, I didn’t want to go in flaunting the belly.  My name is called.  I go back and again enter a room full of people.  Same as last time.  THIS time I was ready for the book question.  I had two books that I was going to name, that are very commendable books.  No more mommy porn for me ladies and gentleman.  I am loaded up with sophistication!  Or so I thought.     

Woman across from me: With Language Arts being your background, would you be okay teaching Social Studies?

Me: Sure!  Social Studies is a mindless subject, just tell me what you want taught, and I can assure you I will run with it.

  

Man to my left: Hey, Heidi.  I am the basketball coach.  And.  The.  Social.  Studies.  Teacher.  Since my subject is mindless, what is an example of something you would teach?

Open.  Mouth.  Insert.  Moldy.  Freaking.  Underwear.  

Me: I did NOT mean your subject was mindless, that was a terrible description.  I am so sorry.

In the meantime, everyone is rolling with laughter.  

Principal: I am not sure I have ever seen someone turn so red!

Me: I am really nervous, MAN it is hot in here!  

Although I completely said an idiotic thing, they thought it was funny (at least to my face).  They could see how embarrassed I was.  And lets face it, everyone knows there is a reason all the Social Studies/History teachers are also coaches.  It’s not a subject that takes special training to teach.  It is however a role they need to place someone, and it’s one less salary they have to pay if they make a coach a teacher too.  Regardless, I shouldn’t have said that.  Actually, I am probably safer not to say anything.  Geez.  The other thing that probably killed my chances?

Principal: I know in Texas they still paddle in schools.

Another teacher: Seriously?  I didn’t know that!

Me: Sure they do!  I was paddled once!

Just take the pain away, Lord.  Shoot.  Me.  Now.  

Another question was asked that I professionally answered, and then I turned back to the principal...

Me: Okay, let me explain why I got paddled.  I was in the fourth grade (Lie-I was actually in 9th), and I was playing in the bathroom when I was supposed to be at lunch (Another lie.  I actually called a teacher, “devil woman” in a private school...ehem...a CHRISTIAN private school.)

Again, they were rolling with laughter.  Probably laughing at me, not with me.  There is a difference, and the first one doesn’t produce good outcomes. 

So interview 2?  Probably Fail.  I won’t know for sure until tomorrow.  If I don’t post about it again it means I didn’t get it, so don’t ask.  If I get it, I will let you know.

As far as the test that you were praying for?  I will tell you about that later.  I’m sick of typing.      

In need....

Something I have discovered in the last three weeks.  I am severely ADD.  I think I always knew this.  Mom told me a while back that she believes I have always suffered from this.  Little Man has it, and is medicated.  I am pretty sure I passed it to him...if that is possible.

So you ask, why is this all of a sudden coming to the forefront of my mind?  Because I am a studying maniac right now.  I have blogged about trying to be a teacher in this state before.  Here is the deal.  The state of Connecticut gave me a temporary certification.  That temporary certification is good through February 13, 2013.  At the bottom in little tiny words...which reminds me of something else.  

ADD side note: You know how you get a new job and you dress up all pretty for your first day?  You sit in the office across the desk from your new boss where they hand you your written job description.  You read through it, familiar with most of the things because they were already discussed in the interview process.  So you are reading through the same list, confident that this job is the one for you and then at the bottom underneath your list of 15 tasks are the tiny, little words (size six font): and other duties as assigned.

That reminds me of this.  Very similar tiny words are at the bottom of my temporary certification.  Here it is:

So, although I am a certified teacher in Texas and have taken and passed all of the tedious tests to become a Texas teacher...none of that matters.  Connecticut wants me to take all of their tests too.  

This is how I feel about taking test:

All the way through school, I have been a terrible test taker.  I do great on all the classwork and homework, but would make anywhere from a six to a 66 on a test.  If I take two weeks to study, I might get lucky and get a 55.  If I study the night before I might get lucky and make a 15.  Doesn’t matter, and yes, you are reading those numbers correctly.  I can remember in high school, I would get a test and simply take the scantron, and start filling in circles without every even opening the test.  That is how confident I was that it wouldn’t matter.  Unfortunately, I can’t really do that in this case.  I am a grown up now, where the numbers matter.  So, I started off with the three Praxis I tests.  I wanted to knock them all out at once so I scheduled them one right after the other in the same day.  Decided not to really bother studying.  I knew I would pass the reading and writing with no problem.  That is my speciality.  As far as the math, the day before the test, I had the Chief (mathematics ass...err...I mean mathematics genius) brush me up on some of the formula stuff.  I made the hour drive to the test taking facility with the list of formulas taped to my steering wheel.  Get there, walk in, sign in, sit down and wait to be called back.  A woman walks in with her boyfriend and they begin chatting...

ADD side note: You know how a dog goes outside to go to the bathroom?  Gotta go pee, gotta go pee...let me out, let me out.  Ahhh, fresh air...oh yeah, gotta go pee.  Sniff sniff....not that spot, sniff sniff, nope, not that one either.  Sniff sniff, stupid deer peeing in my yard again!  Gotta pee, gotta pee.  Sniff sniff, nope, used that spot an hour ago.  Oh look!  A bird!  Ruff!!! Get the hell out of my yard, you worm eatin’ buffalo wing!  

Well, this is my mind.  Here I am, reciting these formulas in my head before I get in front of the test.  This lady starts talking to this guy, and I turn to people watch.  Not only that, I start to try and figure out what their story is.  Are they both taking a test?  Are they married?  No wedding rings.  They are sitting close.  He has his hand on her leg.  They must be boyfriend and girlfriend.  Is he just here for moral support?  Wait, what were those formulas again?  And just like that...JUST. LIKE. THAT.  They are gone.  Seriously.  G-O-N-E.  So I get led back and they have these noise blocking headphones that you are allowed to use.  I opt out thinking how many icky people have put those next to their dirty ears that have been cleaned about as often as Little Man’s spaces between his toes.  I start my test.  Click.  Click.  Click.  I turn around and the woman behind me, two cubicles over is hitting her pencil against the table.  Swish.  Swish.  Swish.  The guy next to me is swinging his leg back and forth against the cubicle wall.  I angrily grab the stupid ear-wax filled headphones and put them on.  Four minutes have already ticked by on my timer.  I start the first question.  I have to read it five times because this is what I am thinking: Can you get a disease from having other people ear-wax dropped in your ear?  How would they ever figure out that is what is causing your aches and pains?  I think that would be an EXCELLENT show for House.  Oh yeah, House is no longer on anymore.  That was such a good show.  Grey’s Anatomy, when is that coming back on.  Man, last season had such an awesome ending.  Are they going to survive that plane crash?  I can’t believe they killed Lexi off!  

Are you understanding my madness?!?

Another three minutes have gone by.  I have two flippin’ hours to answer 120 questions on the first test! 

Back to the main story...geez, this blog post is a disaster.  

So, I took and easily passed the three Praxis I test, on the first try!!

I have put off the Praxis II test for a good reason.  I spoke to a couple English teachers in this state that have passed it.  One of them (the smarter of the two), told me she had to take it three times to pass it.  The other didn’t tell me anything besides, “It is really hard.”  So, I have taken the last three weeks and gotten three books to help prepare me for this test.  Yes, I put my big girl panties on and decided to do the responsible thing and study to prepare.  Which brings me to my immediate problem.  ADD.  I am having the most difficult time studying for this test.  It is so hard for me to stay focused enough to study one area for more than five minutes at a time! I am distracted by the smallest things.  I think I am realizing it is a problem, because for the first time in a long time I am having to stay focused on one thing for more than 65 seconds.  So, I am writing this blog for a purpose.  Well, two purposes.  

Purpose one: Because I am supposed to be studying and this was my first distraction.

Purpose two: To ask for prayers next Tuesday.  My test is at 3:30.  Pray until you have a personal relationship with God.  Invite him for dinner if that is what it takes.  I don’t care.  But for that day, I am begging...

for you to take a moment and pray for calmness in my mind.  Or just pray for God to give me the right answers.  Either way.  I am putting in the effort, but I am fearful it might not be enough.  So I need your prayers.  If you don’t normally pray?  Now is the time to start.  He might even tune into you better because he isn’t familiar with your voice! Do it for me.  Do it for the kids!!  

Thanks.