Signs the Stress is Getting to Me

I'm kind of a stuffer. I don't express my stress levels explicitly when the pressure is beginning to build, but there are certainly signs when I am having difficulty keeping my head above water. I guess it's one of those times... My kids are out of school; I officially took over as Chief Resident; Just got called to the Primary Presidency; Mom had some minor heart surgery; Brother is about to deploy to Iraq; One of my mentors from dental school died... So there is certainly a lot to ponder.

I notice myself sighing loudly a lot. I notice my cheek muscles are often sore from clenching my teeth together. But my greatest outward manifestation of stress has got to be my sleepwalking adventures. They have been plentiful of late.

I usually don't remember what I've done, but can sometimes remember the reasons behind some of my nocturnal actions if I think hard enough. But sometimes not. For instance, I woke up the other night and realized I had moved furniture around. Wayne is deaf, so he never noticed. I have no clue what I was trying to accomplish and have absolutely no memory of having done this stuff. Hopefully I didn't wake up the neighbors.

Another of my crazier recent exploits came from a bit of comatose problem solving. I have this habit of curling my wrists under me at night time, and I worry that one day I'm going to develop carpal tunnel syndrome because I usually wake up having cut off the circulation in my hands (no hands = no livelihood for a dentist)... So I guess this worry has plagued me enough that my subconscious stepped in to offer a solution. I woke up a few weeks ago having braced my wrists with masking tape. The only reason I remembered my dreamy rationale was because it actually worked: All night I kept trying to put my hands in that position, and kept reminding myself that the tape was meant to stop me from hurting myself. Hey! I'm pretty smart in my sleep!

Actually, I had a moment of pure genius during dental school while taking a nap in the midst of an all-nighter. On the eve of a biochemistry final, one of my dental school friends called to ask a question about the material. I gave an elaborate and articulate answer, for which he thanked me the next day after taking the exam, which contained the very question he had inquired about the night previous... Only problem was, I was asleep when I answered him. I didn't recall what I had told him. I don't even remember him calling. But I guess my explanation was correct! So apparently, I know biochemistry in my dreams.

A few nights ago, I shot out of bed at the sound of a car passing through the alley. I remember "waking up," and very purposefully walking into the kitchen, through the living room, to the front door, back to the kitchen, into one bathroom, into the other bathroom... all the while rearranging things here and there that I ought not to be able to see in the dark. Wayne asked me if I was okay, which I very cheerfully replied, "Yes, Honey! I'm perfectly alright! I'm great!" ...Which was his tip-off that I was not awake or my response would have been much grumpier. But all the next day, I was completely worthless and tired. I'm wearing myself out with these little sleepwalking treks.

I once woke up in the vines of the jungle, pushing the leafy obstructions out of the way as I peered forward on my quest... Only the vines were my hanging clothes and the jungle was the back of my closet. I wonder where I'll end up next!



I guess I'll be happy, as long as I don't start to run into any walls.

WOMAN! FIX ME A CHICKEN POT PIE!!!

Wayne is no chauvanist. How could he be when he currently answers the question "Present Employment" as "Mr. Mom?" But just to keep me on my toes, and just so I can periodically appreciate how good I have it, he will often shout this exclaimation in jest when he is hungry:

WOMAN! FIX ME A CHICKEN POT PIE!!!

So I did.

Hope you had a wonderful Father's Day, Baby.

Open Letter to my Sons

To Hayden:
It's tough being the youngest child... Constantly reaching towards maturity, but still wanting to hang on tightly to innocence and playfulness. It's tough growing up when you're the last in the family to have to do it. It's even tougher when your greatest example has been wise beyond his years, almost doing you a disservice by his watchful, protective hand. He has kept you from many of the growing pains that are inherent in this transition from childhood, seeing the many other kinds of pains you have endured in your youth.

It's not easy learning what real friends are when you've had bullies tormenting you for years. But you have them. You have good friends who care about you and are pulling for you: friends who have often experienced similar situations and have come out of them with strong identities. Don't overlook their caring expressions of friendship. Don't be so gun-shy that you misunderstand their outreach as something sinister. Grow up with them. It's easier to do together.

Hayden, you have one of the most caring, generous souls I have ever met. I aspire to your level of concern for others. You truly have the potential to be the peacemaker in our family, as your infant blessing foretold. You are such a treasure, and I can't imagine this family without the spice and joy that you add to the mix.

Good luck in Middle School, Son. Stay organized and alert, and don't live life in fear. If you manage to accomplish these simple goals, you will go incredibly far in life. I love you.

To Nathan:

You have certainly taken the proverbial lemons and made some mighty-fine lemonaid. I am so pleased that you chose to learn from the tough lessons of last year's academic downturn and risen-- nay, soared to the occasion at your new school. Your former choices to become apathetic and disorganized for a brief time are but a distant memory. I am thrilled to see the scholastic Rock Star return. Good luck in high school honor's classes.

Thank you for being such a good citizen of the world. You have been an example to others through your service and your caring, tolerant attitude. Your little brother has never been a burden to you, but a joyful companion. For that, we are all grateful. I love to hear you make him laugh, as his high pitched giggle is infectious.

We've arrived in the realm of your development where parents are wholly uncool. Yet (for the most part) you have remained respectful and continue to honor us. And for that I thank you. We may suck for a time in your mind, but never forget that our intentions are purely to bring you toward becoming a good man-- a goal which you are well on your way to achieving. I love you.

And to both of my boys:

I know how hard it has been to move so many times over the years. Inadvertantly, I have practically turned you into Army brats... never really giving you a home to settle into. My only hope is that the diversity of your experiences and the chance to learn to adapt will afford you life's lessons that would have otherwise gone untapped. I pray that you will love our final destination next year, and will enjoy the chance to put down roots without experiencing wanderlust. It might be awkward just staying in one place for so long.

I am so proud of you both. I love watching the young men that you are becoming, and have enjoyed the entire process of watching your development along the way. I will look forward to the next few steps, though my influence over you will quickly wane as you embark upon your last years living at home. I love you both more than words can possibly convey. Never forget that, no matter how old or independent you may become.

Love,

Mommy

Now come over here and give me a kiss or I'll kick your teeth in.

One More Secretion Down...

1. Getting puked on... Check

2. Getting peed on... Check

3. Getting spit at... Check

4. Having a giant booger blown at me...

Check.

Just another day at the office.

Happy 14th Birthday, Nate!

You used to be such a cute little guy...

What happened to you?

Nothing Like Waiting 'Till the Last Minute

"Hey, Mommy! Guess what? Tomorrow is the International Day festival at school, and we're performing a song."

"Great Hayden. What time?"

"I don't know. Let me dig out this flyer that has been getting smashed in my bookbag for the last week and a half and I'll tell you... Oh, and by the way, I have to have a costume that shows my family's heritage or I can't perform with the group."

"Hold on! What was that last part?!?"

"We all have to wear costumes that show the place where our family is from."

"I don't think we have anything like that, Hayden."

"Then we have to make one. YOU CAN SEW!"

"Let's see, Hayden. You're part German, so I could just whip up some lederhosen, and I'm sure we have a beer stein laying around somewhere. OR we could go the more modern route, since my great grandfather came to America to escape the Third Reich and just stick a swastika on your arm... Though I'm pretty sure THAT wouldn't be well recieved...

"You are also part Swedish, so we could dress you in a bikini and say you are from the Swedish bikini team."

"Moooo-oooom!!!"

"Or how 'bout this, Hayden? Since Daddy just found out he's 1/16 Native American, we could dress you up in a stereotypical feather headdress and offend all the rabid P.C. Southern Californians that banned the celebration of Thanksgiving at public schools for such garb last year."

"Whatever."

~~~~~

Given the options, we thought the bloodthirsty Vikings were representative enough of our culture and heritage. What is a child of Northern European ancestry to do?

37 different countries were represented. Though I became a little nervous when they started passing the microphone around to have the kids say something in their country's native tongue. The only thing Hayden knows in Swedish is "ludefisk."

Much tastier that ludefisk: Hayden shows his best Viking manners as he plows through one of the treats from the Mexican food stand.

Nathan needed to jump into the act.

~~~~~

Tickets to buy tasty international cuisine in support of the local PTA: $20

Duct Tape/ Milk Carton/ Shopping Bag Viking Costume: $2.5o

Reconnecting with your savage roots: Priceless

Move Over Michael Jackson...

...Your cute factor has been usurped. Of course I refer to the Michael Jackson of the 1970's: The "Jackson 5" M.J.... The one with a nose and a human face... prior to his fascination with Mccully Culkin and "Bubbles" the hideous primate. I speak of the time when his prepubescent voice actually made those high notes sound appropriate.

Hayden went to the middle school yesterday to check out his future surroundings. When we asked him how it went, his only reply (said with a curious smirk on his face) was, "All the girls said I was cute!" Probed further, we asked him "Which girls?" "All of them," was his answer. He seemed baffled and a little twitterpated at the same time.

He went on to solidify the cute factor last night as he sang his adorable little guts out at his school concert. This is the video which includes his 15 seconds of fame.

So M.J., there's a new "Wiz" in town. And he's WAAAAAAY cuter than you!